


Fifty More Shades Of Smeg

by felineranger



Series: Fifty Shades [2]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Bondage, Kidnapping, Kinky, M/M, Rape, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 56,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/pseuds/felineranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Fifty Shades of Smeg'</p><p>Lister and Rimmer have been married now for five years.  They've got the perfect life, or so it seems, but there's trouble lurking on the horizon.</p><p>*Now with added appendices!*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably self-indulgent bullshit, but once I started thinking about it, I couldn't stop.
> 
> It won't be anywhere near as long as the first one, and I hope it doesn't ruin it for anyone who might have had their own headcanon about what happened to these two. After all, in a universe of parallel dimensions, everything happens somewhere...
> 
> NB: Also ties in with Janamelie's lovely spin off 'Trouble in Paradise'.

David Lister lay face down and naked, his wrists and ankles held tightly at each corner of the bed by tough black leather cuffs, as he was vigorously fucked from behind by his husband. With the limited range of movement available to him, he swivelled his hips, rubbing his swollen and aching cock against the delicious smoothness of the red silk sheet below him. He groaned and a hand came down sharply on his already pink bottom, making him groan again. “No humping the mattress, squire,” Rimmer scolded breathlessly, still pounding into him mercilessly, “That’s cheating.”

“I can’t hold back much longer,” Lister whined. Another slap on the bottom made him gasp and his erection throbbed almost painfully. “Maybe I should put a cock ring on you, hmm?” Rimmer purred, “See how long we can make you last then?”

“Oh... _god_...”

“That’s right, you’d like that, wouldn’t you...?”

                Just then, a sound from across the room made Lister moan again. “Oh no,” he gasped, “No, no, no, no, no...”

“Ignore it.”

“But...”

“It’ll be fine. It can wait...just...a minute...” Rimmer gasped out, his thrusts immediately quickening. He reached down and closed one tight fist around Lister’s cock, making him cry out in both delight and desperation.

                The soft sound that had disturbed them changed from an uncertain whimper to a distinct, needy cry. “Daddy? Papa? Daddeeeeee...”

                Rimmer came with a heartfelt groan into Lister’s ass, and Lister responded as he always did to the feel of hologramatic come spurting into him like sweet fizzy wine; by coming just as hard, thrusting needily into the hot prison of Rimmer’s strong fingers as he spilled over the sheet. Rimmer collapsed on top of him and they lay panting for just a second before Rimmer reached for the buckle on Lister’s right wrist. Lister shook his head. “Don’t bother. Just go. I’ll be okay for a minute or two.” The cry over the baby monitor had now become a chorus. Rimmer hauled himself up and threw on a dressing-gown with a sigh, “Great. Now they’re both awake.”

“Whose idea was it to have kids anyway?”

“Yours, if I remember.”

“What was I thinking?”

“Damned if I know. I should have just said yes to getting a cat.”

                Lister listened as Rimmer disappeared down the hall, then heard his voice over the monitor. “What’s the matter, boys?”

“Bunny fall down!” That sounded like Jim.

“Bunny is made of stuffing. He won’t be hurt. Go back to sleep.” Lister rolled his eyes. Maybe he should have gone. Rimmer was still struggling with some of the finer points of parenting.

“But I need him to sleep!”

“You don’t actually _need_...Look, alright, never mind. Here’s bunny. Go back to sleep now.”

“Goodnight bunny. Goodnight Papa.”

“Goodnight boys.”

                Rimmer returned to the playroom and flopped down beside Lister. “Crisis averted.” He started to unbuckle Lister’s restraints. “Poor bunny,” Lister teased, “You weren’t very sympathetic.”

“Aren’t they a bit old for stuffed animals now?”

“They’re three!”

“I’m sure I didn’t still have those furry fripperies at their age.”

“And your childhood was so healthy.”

“Well, when did you stop playing with bears and bunnies and such?”

“I don’t know. Eight or nine, I suppose.” It was a lie. He’d had a bear named Fuzzy right up until he’d gone into the orphanage at thirteen, when his gran died.

“Well,” Rimmer acquiesced, “You’re the expert.”

“I wish,” Lister responded wistfully.

Everyone told you it was hard being a parent. No-one ever said _how_ hard. Neither he nor Rimmer had had what you could call ideal, or even normal, upbringings. As a result, neither of them had much frame of reference to how standard family life was supposed to work. But of course, considering the circumstances, their boys were never really going to have a normal life either.  

                They’d been married for around two years before even thinking about children. Lister had been just twenty-one on the day of their wedding and for the first year of their marriage all their focus had been on Wildfire. With so little certainty about what the future held, or even if they _had_ a future, having babies was the furthest thing from their minds. When they’d returned from their adventure, they’d been hit by a tidal wave of media excitement that had carried them along for months without stopping. They’d left their dimension as celebrities. They had returned as legends. The picture of them with their dimensional counterparts now sat alongside shots of the moon landing and the opening of the first terraformed off-world settlement in the history books; but the image of them kissing beside Wildfire on their triumphant return, elated, relieved, and above all utterly in love, had been the public’s favourite. Their relationship had already been the subject of much attention, but the story of how Lister had smuggled aboard the ship, determined to follow his husband across dimensions to face whatever danger lay ahead together, had captured the hearts and minds of the entire human race. Hollywood made a film about it. It had won Best Picture. Rimmer had hated the actor playing him. Lister had just watched the whole thing unfold with a kind of detached wonder.

                Inevitably, things had quietened down in time; and with the drama of their courtship and the professional and public demands of the Wildfire project finally over, the reality of his new life finally started to dawn on Lister. One morning he’d opened his eyes and found Rimmer looking down at him with a loving smile. “Name a place you’ve never been, that you’ve always wanted to see,” he’d said. Lister, still sleepy and assuming this was a game of some sort, had yawned and said, “Machu Picchu”. When he’d rolled out of bed twenty minutes later, Rimmer had told him to get dressed because they were going out. They’d been at Machu Picchu by lunchtime. Rimmer had brought a picnic.

As he’d looked out over the incredible scene before him, the verdant green peaks and the enthralling ancient ruins bathed in their dreamy mist, Lister had had an epiphany. Up until that moment, there had been a little part of his brain that had never really grasped what had happened to his life and was still waiting for everything to go back to normal. He’d been operating in a kind of dream-state for months, and nothing - not walking down the aisle on his wedding day or stepping out of Wildfire to greet the frenzied press – had felt entirely real. From the day he’d met Arnold Rimmer everything had been so intense and surreal, and his life had changed so quickly and dramatically that he’d never really had time to process it fully; as if he’d wake up one day and find he was late for his job at the Megamart and it had all been a vivid fantasy.

But as he breathed in the heady mountain air and took in where he was, the reality finally hit him and he truly realised he wasn’t going to wake up.

The stupendously rich handsome man standing beside him was his husband, this was his life, and there were no boundaries. Anything was possible. Unexpectedly, he’d started weeping. Rimmer had put his arms around him and asked, “What’s the matter, baby? Why are you crying?” and Lister had wiped at his eyes with a corner of the picnic blanket and said simply, “I can’t believe we’re in Peru.”

Gradually they’d settled into something resembling a normal life. They’d gone back to work. They wrote articles, gave lectures and interviews. Rimmer took up painting. Lister went biking at weekends. They used the playroom frequently and enthusiastically. And it occurred to Lister one day that it felt like they were waiting for something. The feeling persisted, a low-level hum in the background of their lives for several months. When a colleague in Lister’s department had come in one day to show off his new baby daughter and gently placed the small warm bundle into Lister’s arms, he’d finally realised what it was.

                The technology was there but still in its infancy. Lister didn’t completely understand the science, he was an engineer not a biologist, but it involved he and Rimmer donating samples of genetic tissue that were spliced together to create a child that was truly theirs. This wasn’t a problem for Lister, he had plenty of DNA to give away. For his hologram husband, it was a little more complicated. Fortunately, when Rimmer had died, he had made the decision to have his corpse cryogenically frozen. Lister was glad, obviously, because it meant they could proceed with the process but he’d been curious as to why. “I thought it might come in useful,” Rimmer replied, “After all, technology moves forward every year.”

“You think you might still be able to use your body one day?” Lister asked sceptically.

“You never know.”

“But you got shot. Isn’t there...” Lister gestured awkwardly, “kind of a hole through the middle?”

“If they can cure death then they can patch up a hole.” Lister accepted the logic of this, although wondered why Rimmer would ever want to go back to using a human body when his hologramatic form was both splendid and more or less indestructible.

They’d gone ahead with the process and Lister, who honestly hadn’t given a thought to the wider issues surrounding their parenthood, had been surprised when they’d become the topic of hot media debate. Although same-sex marriage and adoption had been around for centuries, some factions still felt uncomfortable with the idea of a same-sex couple actually being able to have their own child. Some people were fine with the concept but argued that it was unfair that the option was limited to the super-rich who could afford to pay for the process. Lister had no interest in the politics of what they were doing – not really. He didn’t want to be a symbol or a spokesperson for the issue. He just wanted a family. With the technology still being perfected, they’d donated three samples in the hope that at least one would work. When they’d found they were having not one baby but two, Lister had been overjoyed. Rimmer had been vaguely terrified.

They’d spent months arguing over names. When they’d got married, they had both opted to keep their own names for professional reasons, but they had to decide on a surname for the children. They’d toyed briefly with the idea of amalgamating names:

“How about Rimster?”

“ _No_.”    

Having decided to double-barrel, they then spent the time until the twins were ready to take home arguing over whose name would go first. They never even got around to discussing first names. On the day that they finally got to hold their sons for the first time, they’d sat side by side in the clinic, silent with the stunned awe of all new parents. “We still need to make a decision about the name,” Rimmer murmured at one point. Lister didn’t even look up from the small figure he held. “I don’t care,” he said simply. Rimmer put his own name first on the birth certificates. In exchange, he agreed to let Lister choose first names, a move he came to regret. “I can’t believe you named our children after a footballer,” he griped on the way home. Thus James and Bexley Rimmer-Lister were born.

                Lister was adamant that they weren’t going to be one of those rich couples who hired someone to raise their kids for them and treated them like accessories. Aside from anything else, he was aware that the world would be watching and judging how they coped. It went without saying that Mrs Jones would be very involved in the children’s lives and would babysit when necessary but – Lister was very clear – she was not to be treated like a nanny who would be there 24/7 to do everything for them. They could do this by themselves. Once they got home however, it quickly became clear that looking after a baby, not to mention two, was more hard work than he’d envisioned. Rimmer didn’t really need sleep and so wasn’t as badly affected by the sudden lack of it, but the night-feeds hit Lister hard, although he insisted on taking his turn doing them.

When the boys were around six weeks old, Rimmer had gone away on a business trip. Mrs Jones had offered to stay over during the nights to help Lister manage but he had declined, determined to prove he was capable of caring for his sons alone. Three days and less than 10 hours of sleep later, he’d crashed out on the sofa after settling the twins down at lunchtime, and when he woke up again it was dark outside and there was a blanket over him. He sat upright and saw Mrs Jones dusting. “What time is it?” he asked panicked, “How long was I asleep?”

“It’s nearly seven.”

“The boys...they must need feeding! Why aren’t they crying...?” he started to scramble out from under the blanket. Mrs Jones put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down gently. “They woke up about an hour ago. They’ve been fed and changed and now they’re fast asleep again.”

“You should have woken me.”

“You needed the rest.”

“I can manage.”

“I know you can,” she said to him patiently, “But you don’t _have_ to. And when they wake up again, you’ll be a better father for having a few hours kip behind you.”  

                Lister sank back down, calming slightly. He did feel better. Mrs Jones disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a deep bowl of chicken stew which she handed to him. He looked up at her with heartfelt gratitude. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“That’s why I’m here, dear,” she said. She smiled down at him and put a tender hand on his head. He thought for just a moment that her eyes looked wet. “ _Let_ me help,” she said softly.

Lister decided he would.

                The boys had thrived but each stage of their development brought new challenges. Lister sometimes wondered if they’d ever really feel like they knew what they were doing, or if indeed any parent did. He and Rimmer loved the boys and loved each other, and together with the huge resources at their disposal, he had to hope that was enough.

 

They slipped out of the playroom wrapped in warm dressing-gowns and Rimmer, as always, locked the door behind them. They crept quietly to their own room, careful not to wake the twins again, and burrowed under the covers.

Dave Lister, who’d started life in a cardboard box in a backstreet pub, fell asleep smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning the two of them sat at the kitchen island over breakfast. Rimmer was sipping coffee, skimming the morning news on his tablet, while Lister munched his way loudly through cornflakes. “Are you going anywhere today?” he asked between mouthfuls.

“No, I’ll be in the office all day. Why?”

“I’m giving that talk at the academy this afternoon. I was hoping Taylor could run me over there if he’s not with you.” ”That’s fine.” Rimmer went back to the news. Lister’s mouth tilted up slightly at the corner but he said nothing. It was something of a sore point of Rimmer’s that he was the only one of his brothers not to have attended the academy. Despite the fact that he had encouraged and funded Lister’s tuition there (or at least the company had) and was incredibly proud of how well he’d done, he still carried a hint of jealousy that he himself had never qualified for a place. Rimmer was an excellent businessman, and a top-notch pilot, but he’d never had the aptitude for the necessary specialty subjects that were required for admission, such as astronavigation or engineering.

                Mrs Jones walked in, smoothing down her dress. “The boys are in the playroom if you want to say goodbye before you go to work,” she announced. “The _children’s_ playroom,” she added emphatically when she saw their faces. “I’ll take them down to the crèche in half an hour or so. But do try and keep your bits and bobs tidied away. I found them playing with a pair of handcuffs last week. I had to tell them their daddies had been playing cops and robbers.”

Lister cringed bashfully. He tried never to think about how familiar Mrs Jones was with their sexual habits. Rimmer, as ever, was unflustered, “Thank you, Mrs Jones. We’ll try and keep it to the playroom. The _other_ playroom.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she remarked, retrieving a couple of juice cartons from the fridge before exiting again.

Still blushing faintly, Lister looked over to Rimmer. He’d been meaning to broach this subject for a while now and this was as good a time as any. “You know, maybe it’s time we talked about the playroom,” he said tentatively.

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps we should move it out of the apartment. The boys are getting bigger and eventually they’ll want to know why there’s a room in their home that’s forbidden.”

“We’ll just tell them there’s something dangerous in there,” Rimmer said dismissively.

“Yeah, that’ll squash their curiosity.”

“We keep it locked.”

“They’ll find a way in there sooner or later, man.”

“They wouldn’t understand it, even if they did.”

“They probably wouldn’t, but it might still scare them. And who’s to say they wouldn’t decide to talk about it at the wrong moment? You really want them to announce at playgroup that ‘Our daddies have a secret room full of chains’?”

“Well, what would we do with all the stuff?”

“I dunno,” Lister sipped his tea thoughtfully. “Move it to another part of the hub? Or another apartment maybe and save it for weekends away?” Rimmer made a huffy noise. “Come on, we don’t use it nearly as much anymore, what with the kids and everything. And if we decide to have another baby…”

“Another baby?!” Rimmer exclaimed, finally looking up from his tablet.

“I said ‘ _if’_ ,” Lister repeated calmly.

“I’ll think about it,” Rimmer said grumpily.

“The playroom or…?”

“Just the playroom for now, I think,” Rimmer said firmly.

                Lister got up and carried his bowl to the dishwasher, stopping to kiss the outer corner of Rimmer’s eye as he went past. “Fair enough. Are you going to speak to Taylor or shall I?”

“I will. Just tell me what time you need to be there and I’ll sort it out.”

 

Later that day, Lister sat alone in the back of the limo, heading towards the academy. He would have rather made his own way there. It was only on the other side of town but over the years they’d been married, Rimmer had got decidedly twitchy about him leaving the hub on his own. If Taylor wasn’t around to drive him, he might grudgingly agree to Lister driving himself on his bike, but he preferred him to be accompanied and taxis were an absolute no-no. He didn’t like Lister getting into a car with anyone he didn’t know and trust.

There were times Lister liked being in the limo, usually late at night when it was dark outside and the car became like a warm leather nest where they could sprawl out or, if they had the energy, make love on the long seats. Sitting by himself in the huge car, in the middle of the day, always made him feel slightly ridiculous and self-important. If he hadn’t needed to look smart for this affair, he would have been tempted to just go on his bike, although Rimmer wouldn’t have liked that much either. He tolerated Lister’s biking because he had no choice in the matter (and, Lister suspected, because he grudgingly found it quite sexy) but he hated it. Lister had been badly injured in a bike accident shortly before they’d been married. He had bounced back and gotten over it reasonably quickly, but Rimmer never had. He’d done his best to try and get Lister into cars instead, which he considered safer, but so far he had resisted – as much out of principle now as anything else. Lister could be stubborn when he wanted.

As he stared out of the car window, his mind turned back to their conversation that morning. He put a finger to his lips and stroked them ponderously. Another baby. Where had that thought come from? His boys meant everything to him and he’d thought he was utterly content with the way things were. The only regret he had, if you could even call it such, was that the boys looked so much like him. Of course, like all parents, Lister thought his children were beautiful but he would have liked it if they had more of Rimmer about them. The thought of a child with Arnold’s sparkling hazel eyes still made him smile wistfully. Rimmer hadn’t seemed overly keen on the idea of expanding their family this morning though.

Rimmer was a good father, to be fair to him, but Lister was well aware that he struggled with it. It was to be expected, given the upbringing he’d had and the shockingly poor example his parents had set. Lister’s own childhood had not been a bed of roses, but he’d at least had a wonderful relationship with his grandmother to draw on. Rimmer’s family had been outright abusive and, although Lister knew that he loved their boys just as fervently as he did, he found it difficult to show it. The Rimmer household had been distinctly lacking in hugs, and the idea that children occasionally needed to be picked up, cuddled, and played with was something of a foreign concept to him. Hell, the idea that sexual partners might sometimes need cuddling had been a fairly foreign concept to him before he met Lister. His tendency to deal with the kids in the same way he dealt with just about everyone else, by barking orders at them, was something that Lister had been gently trying to cure him of since Jim and Bexley started walking and talking. They’d made progress but Lister was aware that this was something his husband would probably always wrestle with to a certain degree. Arnold Rimmer liked to be obeyed. Children (and certainly not children containing a strong concentration of Dave Lister’s DNA) were not always obedient. Would it really be a good idea to have another child when Rimmer was still learning how to manage and relate to the ones they already had?

Lister did what he always did when he felt unsettled or unsatisfied, and opened his wallet to look at the selfie he’d taken with his dimensional counterpart. When he thought of that Lister and Rimmer out there, and everything they’d lost (and everything they’d never found) it reminded him of how much he had to be grateful for.

He put family matters to the back of his mind while he gave his lecture, and afterwards was invited back to the Chancellor’s Hall for a drinks reception. Although it was still hard sometimes for Lister to get his head around the idea, he was one of the academy’s most celebrated graduates (he’d been one of their most celebrated students before he’d even arrived for that matter) and they’d gone to a lot of effort for his visit. As he looked around the room at his fellow guests, with their upper-class accents, sipping their expensive scotch and champagne, he had to remind himself that there had been a time when the idea of him even getting into this building had been nothing more than a very optimistic dream. He’d been a poor kid working two jobs and studying every hour he could in the desperate hope of a scholarship that was by no means guaranteed for someone like him, no matter how good he was. Now they rolled out the red carpet for him when he visited. It was nice; but the part of Lister that would always be the boy from the estate viewed it all with a slightly cynical eye. He knew that without his husband’s support he might well have never even made it through the doors here, and he wouldn’t ever forget it. After he’d graduated, he and Rimmer had set up their own scholarship program to help fund academy places for those from disadvantaged backgrounds. They’d named it the ‘Maureen Lister Foundation’ in memory of his grandmother.

                “Mister Lister. How do you do?” A tall man in an impeccable suit held out his hand and Lister shook it automatically. “Hi.”

“I enjoyed your talk. I’m sure the students found it very motivating.”

“Oh, well, thank you. I hope so.” He looked up and studied the man’s features a little more closely, and was suddenly struck with recognition. “Oh,” he said, stunned. He knew this face. It all came flooding back to him in shocking technicolour. He’d not properly met this man before but he’d certainly seen him. He’d seen more of him than was decent. The family resemblance was stronger in the flesh though. The nose, the mouth, the shape of the face; but shorter than Arnold and blue eyes rather than hazel. “You’re Howard, aren’t you?”

“Howard Rimmer, indeed. At your service.”

“Hi.”

“I’m surprised you recognised me. I can’t imagine Arnold has many pictures of the family.”

“Er, no. But I’ve seen some,” Lister lied desperately. He forced a smile. “Wow. This is awkward.”

“Not at all. Please don’t be embarrassed on my account.” Howard held up a placating hand, “Believe me, I did not expect an invitation to the wedding. Although I saw the pictures, of course. Well,” he gave a small laugh, “didn’t we all? It looked like a wonderful day.”

“It was,” Lister wasn’t sure what else to say. _I actually meant it’s awkward because I’ve seen you naked_ , didn’t seem appropriate.

“It came as rather a shock though,” Howard went on, “I don’t think any of us ever expected Arnold to marry. He never seemed the type.”

“I…can understand that,” Lister said carefully.

“And of course Mummy was absolutely horrified. Your name is not to be mentioned at home. Don’t take it personally.”

“Because I’m a guy?” Lister asked with a hint of a smile. He knew well that parts of IO were still deeply conservative. If only Mrs Rimmer knew what her older son was getting up to, she might be less concerned about Arnold’s choice of spouse. “Worse,” Howard smiled back, “You’re working class. Make no mistake, my mother’s snobbery overcomes all other forms of prejudice. If you were a prince, or even a minor aristocrat, she’d be lording it about like no-one’s business.”

“I wish I could say I’m sorry to disappoint, but I honestly don’t care whether or not I have the family seal of approval.”

“You wouldn’t want it. Trust me. They’re ghastly people. Arnold had the right idea bailing out, you know. I don’t blame him for not wanting anything to do with us.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Lister said, “But what are you doing here?” _Because I know you’re not in the space corps anymore. If you ever were._

“Just meeting up with some old alumni. And, to be absolutely honest, when I heard you were going to be here, I was curious. I thought it was time we met. Part of me was hoping you two might show up to Father’s funeral to liven up the proceedings, you know.”

“Yes, we heard about your father,” Lister said tentatively. They’d had a call from Rimmer’s lawyer, but unsurprisingly no invite to the funeral. “Again, I wish I could say I’m sorry.”

“Ha! You and me both. Still, it would have been gloriously inappropriate for you to come, after what happened with Arnold. Although, to be fair we weren’t invited to his funeral either, which I suppose makes things square.”

Lister wasn’t sure what to say. He knew very little about Rimmer’s brothers, except that they all had a reputation for being successful and respectable with a big capital R. Despite their surprising discovery about Howard’s true career path in the sex industry, he seemed to have done a good job keeping it under wraps. And he had, undoubtedly, been successful. That film had been a big-budget affair for a porno. If you had enough money, Lister assumed, people didn’t ask questions about how you made it. The only other thing he knew was that they were all (according to Rimmer anyway), as Howard had put it, ghastly people who had bullied him unmercifully as a child. But Howard, for all that this was a surprisingly frank conversation, seemed amiable enough and to stand here as adults and say ‘You used to pick on my husband when you were kids’ seemed ludicrously petty.

“I understand you all had a difficult upbringing,” he ventured cautiously.

“Yes. I’d say difficult just about sums it up,” Howard agreed, “Make no mistake, we were nasty kids. All of us, myself included. Arnold was just always…a little more sensitive, a little easier to provoke. He’s an all-or-nothing type. I’m sure I don’t have to tell _you_ of all people that.”

“He’s a very intense man,” Lister agreed diplomatically.

“I am sorry it ended this way though. I respect what he’s made of himself. And I’m glad he seems to be happy at last.”

“Well, thank you.”

“And I didn’t congratulate you on your boys. You must be very proud.”

“We are.” Lister hesitated, “I have a photo,” he said, “If you’d like to see.”

“Of course.” Lister drew out his wallet and opened it up. The picture was a new one, taken just a few weeks ago by Mrs Jones, of the four of them having a picnic. Lister liked it better than the pristine magazine shots they had so many of. They looked like a family instead of celebrities.

Howard smiled at the image, “At least they take after you.” He held out a hand again, “I’m glad to have finally met you. I’ll tell Mummy you were simply dreadful.”

Lister shook the hand and grinned, “Please do.”


	3. Chapter 3

                                When Lister arrived back at the hub at supper time, Rimmer was already back from the office, keeping a wary eye on the twins as they played on the sitting-room carpet. They scrambled to their feet as he came out of the lift and tumbled towards him with the uncoordinated not-quite-falling-down run of toddlers everywhere “Daddy!”

                Lister grinned and squatted down to hug them and, as he did so, the subject he’d been pondering in the limo rose once more to the front of his mind. “How’re my little dudes?” he kissed them both.

“Daddy, look!” Bexley was clutching a toy jet in one chubby hand, “Got a zoom!”

“A jet,” Rimmer corrected gently from the sofa, “Not a zoom. Use proper words.”

Lister ignored him. “Wow, that’s cool,” he enthused, “Is that like our jet that Papa flies when we go out?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Our jet is black,” Jim pointed out.

“Yeah, black.” Bexley agreed.

“Well, let’s see how fast it goes!” Lister scooped his son up and lifted him over his head, twirling him round. The little boy squealed with delight.

“Dave! Be careful!” Rimmer scolded anxiously.

“It’s fine,” Lister reassured him cheerfully, setting the small boy back on his feet.

“My turn! My turn!” Jim was hopping up and down. Lister obligingly swung him up in the air and Rimmer tutted, but he was smiling grudgingly.

                Leaving the boys giggling and giddy, Lister took off his jacket and dropped onto the sofa, kissing the top of Rimmer’s head. “How was your day?”

“Dull. You?”

“The talk went well. But…uh,” Lister hesitated. It might not be a good idea to discuss this in front of the boys. Rimmer tended to react badly to any mention of his family. “Something interesting happened. I’ll tell you later.” Rimmer raised an eyebrow but nodded. The twins scrambled onto the sofa to sit between them. “What about you guys?” Lister changed the subject, “What did you learn at playgroup today?”

                The boys attending playgroup at all had been a battle on its own. If Rimmer had got his way, they would have hired a private tutor to teach them at home under the watchful eye of Mrs Jones, but Lister had insisted that they needed to interact with other children. There were at least two exclusive pre-schools here in the city that would have fitted their needs in terms of quality and security but Rimmer had been equally insistent that he trusted no-one enough to leave their children with. In the end they had compromised and set up a crèche within the Rimmer Building for the children of employees. Rimmer was pacified that the boys would not actually be leaving the tower and he could hire his own security, Lister had liked the fact that they would have kids their own age to play with, and both they and all the other staff who benefited from the arrangement liked the convenience of it. Mrs Jones normally dropped them off and picked them up, and either Lister or Rimmer would pop in during their working day to see how they were. Lister also found playing with the water table at lunchtimes, under the guise of parenting, rather soothing. On one occasion, when they’d hired in some bigger toys for one child’s birthday, Lister had come across several of his colleagues in the ball pit.

                After dinner they watched some cartoons and then put the boys to bed. Once they were settled down, the two of them retreated to the kitchen. “Come on then,” Rimmer said to him, pouring a glass of wine, “Out with it.”

Lister decided to be blunt, “I met your brother Howard today. He was at the academy this afternoon.” Rimmer immediately scowled.

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Yes. He came over and introduced himself. He was quite chatty, in fact.”

“He’s got a nerve. What was he doing there?”

“Seeing some old friends, he said.” He chose not to add that Howard had admitted making a point of coming to meet him.

“I wonder how many of those old friends know the truth about him?” Rimmer glowered.

“You know what they say about people in glass houses?” Lister replied pointedly.

“What we do in the privacy of our own home is nobody’s business but ours,” Rimmer argued, “He’s out there doing all sorts for the whole universe to see. It’ll get out eventually and we’ll be the ones with paparazzi flocking around like dirty seagulls.”

“If it happens, it happens,” Lister told him calmly, “We can handle paps and you can’t be held responsible for what your brother gets up to.”

                “So what did he have to say for himself?”

“About what? I didn’t tell him we knew his secret, if that’s what you mean.”

“So what did you talk about?”

“Just…family stuff.”

“Family stuff?” Rimmer repeated. His face looked like he’d swallowed a wasp.

“Yeah. He said he was glad you were doing so well and that we were happy together. He said your mum hates my guts, which I probably could have guessed. And he pretty much confirmed what you’ve always told me, that your family are a bunch of dysfunctional jerks, and he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance.”

“Yes, I’m sure he agrees that they’re all bastards. Except him, of course.”

“He admitted that he treated you badly when you were kids.”

“How big of him.”

“Anyway,” Lister shrugged, “I showed him a picture of the boys. We shook hands. And that was the end of it.”

“What did you show him the boys for?” Rimmer demanded.

“Why not?” Lister said, “It’s hardly a secret, is it? Their pictures show up in the papers every time we leave the house. I just thought it would be nice for him to see something more personal. After all, he is their uncle.”

“ _No_ ,” Rimmer said emphatically, putting his glass down, “He is not. He is _nothing_ to our boys, do you understand me? My family are to have _nothing_ to do with our boys!”

“Okay, okay,” Lister agreed, pacifying him. He went to Rimmer and reached up to stroke both hands through his hair soothingly. “Whatever you say. I just thought you should know, that’s all.”

                Rimmer put his arms around him but Lister could still feel the tension in his muscles. “Hey,” he murmured, “It’s still early. Why don’t you finish off that glass of wine and we’ll have us a little grown-up playtime? Hmmm?”

“I suppose I should make the most of it before you start chucking all the stuff out,” Rimmer grumbled.

“Let’s not talk about that just now,” Lister brushed the dig aside, “I don’t want to fight.”

“No,” Rimmer’s arms tightened around him, “Neither do I.” Lister stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

“What _do_ you want to do?” he asked provocatively, “Tell me what you want to do to me.” He could feel Rimmer was getting hard now, his body language shifting from cold anger to something more heated and predatory. “So, so many terrible things,” Rimmer whispered back, his hands now caressing Lister’s body gently.

"Terrible is good,” Lister encouraged him between kisses, “Make it unspeakable and baby, you’ve got a deal.”

“Get your arse into the playroom.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

                When they’d got married, Lister had wondered if the BDSM element of their sex life would get stale after a while. Not so much for Rimmer, for whom he realised it would always be an integral part of his sexuality, but more for himself. He’d been green as meadow grass when Rimmer had first introduced him to all this and, although he’d always found their sessions enjoyable, it had occurred to him that he might well tire of all this once it was no longer new and exciting. To his relief, that hadn’t happened yet.

Even after five years of marriage, vanilla sex was rare for them and, when it did happen, was usually the result of spontaneity. Not even Rimmer carried handcuffs 24/7, but on the odd occasions when they didn’t have any equipment to hand, he could still be very creative. It was a strange quirk of their relationship that they almost never had sex in the bedroom. They’d screwed in every damn room of the penthouse at least once but, on the whole, the bedroom was only where they went to sleep, apart from a couple of notable occasions.

The first ever time they’d had sex had been in there, the night Lister had first discovered the twin joys of being fucked by a man and of being fucked by a hologram…and, of course, the night Rimmer had first shown him the playroom. The only other time had been the night before they’d been due at the fertility clinic to start the process of bringing a child into the world. Rimmer had rolled over in bed and kissed him, and one thing had slowly led to another until Rimmer was deep inside him and they had made love staring into each other’s eyes. It had been strangely intense but it had felt...right. Appropriate somehow. It was stupid, of course. They couldn’t make a baby that way, their child would be conceived under the harsh lights of a laboratory in the morning, but the act had _felt_ like a conception. It had felt instinctive, necessary, almost like a ritual. And, oddly enough, quite kinky.

 

                The majority of their sex life still took place behind the locked door of the playroom though. Every now and then, unmarked boxes of varying sizes would arrive for Rimmer in the post and be quickly whisked away; and Lister would know he was in for an interesting night. Rimmer’s unending passion for bondage, and Lister’s body, as well as his own desire for new experiences, meant that their marital relations had never become boring. Through the first year of their relationship he’d still been baffled and even a little scared by a lot of the equipment contained in the playroom, but over time he had become familiar with all the strange paraphernalia, to the extent that these days he could often guess the purpose of new furniture and toys at a glance, without even needing Rimmer to explain their usage to him. There was very little they hadn’t tried together at least once (at least, in terms of the things Lister was willing to try) with one major exception.

                In all the years they’d been together, Rimmer had never once let Lister fuck him. Not even in the plainest vanilla setting of the bedroom, or the couch, or the back seat of the limo. On the few occasions Lister had brought this up, Rimmer had teased him that it was because his cock was too big, but they both knew that wasn’t true. As a hard-light hologram, Rimmer could have taken a good deal of punishment before anything Lister did to him would be painful. He’d also never allowed Lister to restrain him while they were having sex. Over the years, Lister had been subjected to just about every form of bondage Rimmer could conceive of; from ropes and chains, handcuffs and manacles, leather suspension straps and locking metal frames, to scarves, belts and even rubber bands. He’d been tied up, tied down, gagged, blindfolded, even hung from the damn ceiling.

                The closest Rimmer ever came to letting Lister have control during sex was lying on his back and allowing Lister to suck him and, very _very_ rarely, ride him, so long as he kept both hands flat on Rimmer’s chest and didn’t try to hold him down in any way. He didn’t mind Lister initiating sex between them, and didn’t even mind too much if Lister took the lead during foreplay. But as soon as they were naked, as soon as it became about sex rather than play, Rimmer had to be in control. Lister had come to accept this as just one of those things. He was by no means sexually unsatisfied and he knew this behaviour was nothing to do with selfishness on Rimmer’s part and everything to do with the mental trauma left by his abusive childhood. Lister loved his husband wholeheartedly, loved having sex with him in any position and under just about any circumstances and, once it became clear that Rimmer simply couldn’t enjoy sex if he felt in the least bit vulnerable, it hadn’t been a great hardship to resign himself to the fact that his role in the otherwise varied and fulfilling lovemaking they shared was probably never going to change.

               

                One thing Lister could be sure of, was that the playroom was Rimmer’s favourite place to work off stress. When he went in there with something on his mind, the session was likely to be much more intense. Judging by the set of his husband’s jaw, Lister’s news about Howard meant tonight was going to be a work-out.

 

                “Undress yourself,” Rimmer ordered, as they stood face to face in the red-walled chamber of the playroom. “Then put your clothes on the shelf. _Neatly_.” Lister grinned impishly. Arnold knew this was the only room in the house where he could get away with telling Lister to be tidy and actually be obeyed. “Yes, sir.” Lister did as he was bid, folding his things with deliberately slow and painstaking precision. “Good. Now undress me.”

“Would you like me to fold your things too?” Lister asked sweetly. He saw Rimmer narrow his eyes. He didn’t want his own things flung higgledy-piggledy around the room but he knew if he said ‘yes’, Lister would purposely take his time about it, and he wanted to move on. Lister waited, smirking, for him to make up his mind. Finally, Rimmer smirked too. “Yes,” he said, “And if they’re not in a neat pile within thirty seconds of me timing you, then I’m going to flog you one stroke for every second longer you take.” Lister’s smirk disappeared.

“Yes, Sir,” he muttered, stepping up to undo Rimmer’s shirt.

                Rimmer bent down to kiss his cheek as he fiddled with the buttons, “You’re getting clever, miladdo. I’ll give you that. But not quite clever enough.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to be clever. I’m just doing my best to please,” Lister protested innocently.

“Like smeg you are. But I don’t mind, it keeps me on my toes.” He ran one hand down Lister’s naked back in a soft caress, “And besides, you’d only be delaying the inevitable.” Lister’s fingers trembled slightly with anticipation at the touch.

                Once he was holding Rimmer’s clothes in his arms, he looked up expectantly. “You’ve got thirty seconds, dear.”

“How are you going to time me?”

“In my head.”

“That’s not fair. How do I know you won’t cheat?”

“You don’t. And your time starts _now_.”

                Lister folded the items as quickly as possible and placed them on the shelf next to his own. Rimmer tutted sadly, “Not nearly as neat this time. And it took you at least forty seconds.”

“Forty seconds?! Get outta town, it was never that long!”

“Believe me, David. In fact, I think it was more like forty-two seconds, but I’m willing to be generous because I know how unused you are to folding things. Maybe you should practice before we try this again.”

“You are pure evil.”

“I’m always telling you, baby, don’t play games with me,” Rimmer kissed him triumphantly, “I always win.”

                Rimmer walked him over to a metal A-frame, the top of it padded with a red leather bar. He bent him over it and shackled his wrists at the bottom, then fastened cuffs around his ankles and linked the two together so that he was held in position as if touching his toes, the padded bar supporting him at his waist. “And now,” Rimmer caressed the back of his neck, “You pay the penalty for your slowness.”

                Lister watched as Rimmer went to the rack on the wall and drew out a flogger with long supple suede tassels. He stroked it down his back as he returned, teasing and tickling his bare skin. Lister squirmed expectantly. “Ten strokes,” Rimmer told him gently, “But remember that’s only because I’m feeling merciful.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lister said, and tried to keep the sarcasm in his voice to a minimum. The leather fingers slapped his skin and he gasped.

                It didn’t hurt, but he could feel it all the same. The softness of the leather, the sharpness of the impact, the warm glow as his skin responded to the insult. Once upon a time he’d have never imagined he could learn to love this, but he did. Another swipe, and again all his muscles jumped in unison before relaxing into submissive acceptance, only to go through the same dance again and again with each blow. He could feel the heat as his bottom and thighs were slowly brought to a raw pink blush, and knew that Rimmer would see it and be excited by it, and the thought excited him too. By the time all ten strokes had been delivered, Lister was achingly erect, deliciously sore, and ready to be ravished.

                Rimmer’s cool fingertips stroked the hot tender skin down the back of one thigh, then reached inward to lightly massage his balls and stroke his cock. Lister wriggled helplessly and moaned. “Are you ready to be fucked now, Dave?”

“Always,” Lister gasped, “I’m always ready for you.”

“I don’t know if you’ve earned it yet,” Rimmer said thoughtfully. He bent down, turned a handle at the bottom of the frame and slid the bar up another couple of inches, forcing Lister up onto his toes. The cuffs bit snugly into his wrists and ankles, and the muscles down his arms and legs pulled tight, immediately eliminating any slight range of movement he’d had and rendering him utterly motionless.

                Lister panted slightly, feeling a trickle of sweat running down his neck. As his breath quickened, so did his heart. His cock pulsed frantically. He heard Rimmer’s footsteps on the bare floor as he went to the cabinet across the room but didn’t have the strength to lift his head to see what he was retrieving. He didn’t know until the gag was slipped over his head and fastened tightly between his lips. He closed his eyes and moaned softly, feeling a fresh thrill of arousal as the moan was stifled behind the tough leather strip filling his mouth. Rimmer hardly _ever_ gagged him. He heard his husband’s voice soft beside his ear, “There. _Now_ you’re ready.”

                He felt the slickness of lube, the tight pressure of penetration and then the exquisite satisfaction as he was opened, stretched and filled with his husband’s magnificent hard-light cock. He moaned again into his gag as Rimmer’s hips thudded against the sore flesh of his buttocks. The moan became a squeal of agonised delight as a buzzing sound reached his ears and suddenly he became aware of a low persistent thrumming. Rimmer was wearing a vibrating cock ring that was purring against his balls and his spread backside; and god smegging dammit, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t scream, he just had to take it.

               Rimmer’s hips circled against his ass before pressing tight to him again, forcing his cock in deep and pushing the vibrating bullet at the bottom of the cock ring deliciously against his exposed perineum. Lister made a choked sound in his throat. He was trembling now, his legs exhausted from holding this torturous position on tip-toe, and every muscle in his body wrung out with a heady mix of pain, tension and pleasure, and there was nothing he could do. Not even beg for mercy. The realisation of the full extent of his helplessness rocked him, overwhelmed him, and he felt a sudden wave of light-headed euphoria.

                Lister wasn’t a natural submissive. At the end of the day, he could take or leave the bondage and the S&M and all its trappings. He enjoyed it, but he didn’t _need_ it the way Rimmer did. But for some strange reason, it was in the most intense predicaments, the strictest bondage, when his mind and body were pushed to the very edge of his limits, that he got the most pleasure from it.

He’d have a moment when he’d realise he was lost - that he no longer had any control whatsoever, of the situation or of himself – and once he hit that wall, when all power and sense of self had been surrendered, he’d experience a kind of ecstatic bliss that was almost religious. It was like a mental and physical orgasm all rolled into one. And it was happening to him right now.

He was vaguely aware that he was making sounds, inarticulate cries and groans of pleasure muffled by the gag, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this feeling, as his helpless body was pulled and pounded and vibrated into a state of mindless pleasure.   Rimmer’s cock was doing things to his ass that shouldn’t be possible, there was a hand on his cock doing…god… _something_. And then Rimmer gasped and Lister gave a groan that was almost a sob because he knew what that little sound meant. It meant his world was about to go supernova. And it did.

When he came back to himself, when he was capable of clear thought once more, his limbs were his own again and he was sliding to the floor in his husband’s arms. He was utterly spent and weak as a day-old deer. “You okay?” Rimmer asked breathlessly.

“How do you do it?” Lister asked hoarsely, the words out before he even realised he was no longer gagged, “How do you do this to me?” Rimmer grinned rakishly.

“Practice,” he said simply.

“I sometimes wonder,” Lister mused sleepily, his eyes drifting closed as Rimmer stroked his hair, “If sex is like this for anyone else in the universe.”

“Who knows?” Rimmer asked philosophically, “But for what it’s worth, I doubt it. Just you and me, baby.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

                One thing was for sure. They’d both forgotten about Howard.

 

  


	4. Chapter 4

                Lister was in his workroom one morning when a bunch of flowers arrived for one of his colleagues. Mindy Siegel blushed almost the same colour as the red pencil tucked behind her ear as she accepted the bouquet. “What’s this?” Karl Walker teased gruffly, as they gathered around curiously, “You got a secret admirer, Siegel?”

“Not that secret,” she retorted, “I’ve been married for ten years.”

“Anniversary?” Lister enquired.

“No, it’s my birthday. I was _trying_ to keep it quiet.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“21 again, eh?”

“Shove off.”

“Come on, spill. Is it a big one?”

“No.”

“Card says otherwise,” Joan Martin chipped in, appearing from under the prototype she’d been working on and waving the offending article with ’40 today’ emblazoned across the front with a grin.

“Dammit. I hate you all.”

                “You should have said something,” Lister scolded.

“I don’t want a fuss.”

“Fair enough. But we should at least mark the occasion. Why don’t we all go out for a long lunch somewhere?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I have a lot to do…”

“Siegel,” Walker cut in amused, “If anyone can clear it with the boss for the department to take a long lunch once in a while, then it’s Spanners.”

“I know, I know. But where are we going to get a booking at this short notice?”

Lister grinned, “Leave that to me. I’ll get us in somewhere. In fact, I know just the place.”

 

                Olaf Petersen had not fared well in the Space Corps. When he’d finally graduated from Saturn Tech with a catering qualification (a year after Lister and Petrovitch), he’d joined up as a chef on one of the mining ships. However, the limited stock and poor quality of the ingredients had not sat well with him. Olaf Petersen, he had decided, was an artiste in the medium of food. Baked beans and irradiated haggis were not fitting subjects for his work. His professional frustrations, combined with his now legendary drinking binges, had led to a number of explosive outbursts in the kitchen and after an altercation with the ship’s Rations Officer that was still the subject of much rumour and speculation, he had been discharged of duty. No-one knew exactly what had happened, not even Lister, and all Petersen had been willing to disclose was ‘I’ll tell you this much, Davey. That man will never be able to look at a fish finger again without wincing’.

                He had made his way to Jupiter to join his two best friends and, to their surprise, they had discovered that Olaf actually _was_ an amazing cook. Lister had quietly pulled some strings and helped him get a job at one of Jupiter’s best hotels, but even he hadn’t expected the change it would stir in the man. Once in a job he was truly challenged and stimulated by, Petersen became a force to be reckoned with. He quit drinking to focus on his craft and quickly rose through the ranks to become one of the top chefs in the city. He still had a reputation for being hot-tempered and eccentric, but people expected that of chefs anyway. When he’d eventually opened his own restaurant (supported, of course, by a few choice celebrity faces), people came as much for the possibility of seeing the head-chef having one of his entertaining rages as much as the wonderful food. Lister and Rimmer had spent any number of romantic evenings in there, enjoying an exquisite meal and each other’s company while the melodic sounds of angry Danish swearing filtered through from the kitchens.

                When Lister arrived at the restaurant with his colleagues, Petersen came striding out in his chef’s whites and embraced him fiercely, “Davey! Where you been hiding? Haven’t seen you or that miserable arsehole for weeks!” Lister rolled his eyes, hearing his workmates tittering behind him.

“I assume by ‘miserable arsehole’, you’re referring to my husband?” Olaf and Arnold had never warmed to each other.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Been busy, guy. Work, kids, it never ends.”

“How are those gorgeous little clones of yours?” Olaf turned to the group watching them, “You seen this guy’s kids? They’re like renaissance cherubs. You could stick ‘em on a plinth in the Vatican and no-one would look twice.”

“Yeah, until they start getting into mischief. They’re cute right up until you find the pair of them have been working together to get chocolates out of the cupboard and then fingerpainting it all over their brand new clothes five minutes before you’re supposed to leave the house.”

“Little tykes. I love ‘em to death. Bring them over here one day, I’ll give them enough ice cream to fingerpaint that whole swanky apartment.”

“I’ll bring them over soon.”

“You better. Come on, all of you,” he waved them to a table, “Sit down. Order whatever you like. I’ll put the bill on Davey’s tab and your boss can pay it off next time he decides to take his husband out for dinner.”

 

When Lister got home that evening, he gave Mrs Jones the night off and made dinner for the boys himself. He wasn’t as good a cook as she was, but he liked to do it now and then, even if it was something simple. It felt important to him somehow. He made a family-size dish of macaroni cheese and left the remaining half in the oven for when Rimmer came home.

Rimmer surveyed the offering warily before tucking in. “Relax,” Lister told him, amused, “I didn’t put any chilli in this time. The boys have already tried it with no complaints.”

“Not hungry?” Rimmer asked him, noting the meagre portion he’d taken for himself.

“Not really. I had a big lunch.”

“Oh?”

“It was someone’s birthday. A bunch of us went out to Petersen’s place.”

“Taylor didn’t mention anything.”

“I didn’t bother him with it.”

“So how did you get there?”

Lister briefly considered lying, but decided against it. He didn’t want to start going down the road of hiding things from his husband and he didn’t feel like he should have to. “A few of us shared a cab.”

“David…”

“Come on, it’s like a ten minute drive, if that.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“It’s not _safe_.”                  

“You’re being daft. It’s perfectly safe.”

“You get in one of those things, you’re putting your life in the hands of a complete stranger.”

“Newsflash for you, babe. People all over the galaxy use taxis every day. Most of them survive the ordeal.”

“But not all. You’ve got no idea who’s behind the wheel of one of those things. The driver could be a serial killer for all you know.”

                Lister smiled indulgently at him across the counter, “I can understand you being anxious about me going places on my own, what with you being a crazy person and all that, but it was the middle of the day and I had three other people in the cab with me. It seemed like – what do you call it? – an acceptable risk.”

“We’ve talked about this before and you know how I feel. Taxis are not an acceptable risk. Not in my book.”

“What should I have done? It was a spontaneous thing and I can’t rely on Taylor always being around to chauffeur me.”

“You’ve got the number for the private service I use.”

“I’m not spending 250 quid on a private driver for the day when I just want a lift across town. I know we’re rich, but my gran would turn in her grave.”

“Or you could just take the nice car I keep offering you.”

“You mean the tank you keep offering me.” Rimmer had dragged him around the 4x4 showroom, keenly pointing out the multiple air-bags, automatic braking, reinforced body panels and bullet-proof glass to no avail. “That’s not a car, it’s a smegging nuclear bunker on wheels.”

“It’s the safest car money can buy.”

“It’s huge and it’s hideous.”

“But _you_ are beautiful,” Rimmer reached over and stroked his arm, “And I want to keep you that way.”

“I am not beautiful,” Lister protested irritably, “I’m sexy and rugged and manly.”

“Shut up,” Rimmer said, amused, “You’re adorable.”

“My _point_ ,” Lister stressed, “is that I am a grown man and I can take care of myself.”

“I thought that too. Right up until some loony bastard blew a hole through me. You never know.”

                Lister sighed inwardly. He wasn’t going to win this and he didn’t feel like spending the evening batting the argument back and forth. He had to pick his battles in this marriage and this one could wait for another day. “Whatever. Is this all the thanks I get for making you dinner?”

“You boiled some pasta and put cheese on it. Do you want a medal?”

“So ungrateful.”

“It’s delicious, darling,” Rimmer made a big show of taking a mouthful and savouring it, “It’s absolutely exquisite. You are a genius.”

“I should dump it over your head, you sarky smegger.”

“You wouldn’t dare. You know what I’d do to you in retaliation.”

“Not tonight, I’m too tired.”

“Your culinary labours were obviously exhausting.”

“Shurrup. I’ve eaten too much and I’ve had a busy few days.”

“Alright, alright.”

“By the way,” Lister added as he took Rimmer’s empty plate away and put it in the dishwasher, “You now owe Petersen about three hundred quid.”

“How exactly?”

“Because he wouldn’t let me pay for lunch today. But I imagine he’ll have no problem letting you pay.”

“Three hundred dollarpounds for lunch? No wonder you’re sleepy.”

“That was for everyone. I thought it was reasonable considering.”

“Very well. I might as well call it a business meeting and charge it to the company.”

“See, you _can_ be nice.”

“I don’t make a habit of it,” Rimmer joined him by the sink, tilting his face up and kissing him, “After all, ‘ _nice’_ isn’t what you signed up for, squire.”

“Remind me what I signed up for.”

“I thought you were too tired.”

“I am. But give me the summary.”

“Let me see,” Rimmer held him, tipping him back playfully in his arms, “You signed up for rich, handsome, all-round-awesome space adventurer.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I did.”

                And really, Lister mused as he looked up into the fifty shades of Rimmer’s hazel eyes, all that made up for a hell of a lot. Who needed taxis anyway?


	5. Chapter 5

                The following weekend, Lister’s bike club were holding a meet and he persuaded Rimmer to bring the kids down to the track to watch him race. Rimmer had so far been resistant, not wanting to encourage the daredevil streak the boys had inherited from his other half, but on this occasion he relented. Maybe because he’d not been down there in some time and felt he needed to make at least some show of support, or maybe seeing it as an opportunity to give the boys a safety lecture.

                When Lister walked the bike out onto the start line, he looked up and saw him sat in the VIP area with Taylor and the boys. He looked tense. Lister grinned and waved. Rimmer forced a smile and pointed him out to the kids, who waved back furiously. Buoyed by their presence, Lister slipped on his helmet and mounted his ride, eager to start. He felt the bike purring delectably beneath him as he revved it up, as if it too was shivering with excitement for the race. To his engineer’s ear, there was nothing more melodic than the sound of finely tuned machines raring to go. He flew away from the start line like a soaring bird and drank in the adrenaline rush.

                Lister knew he had very little to complain about. He had a charmed life in almost every respect, but over the last few years it had also been an incredibly _safe_ life. Their secure situation combined with Rimmer’s controlling nature meant that there wasn’t much scope for Lister to take risks. His life was extremely comfortable but not always challenging. Out here on the track was just about the only place where he could exercise complete control, where he could take risks, where he felt totally _free._ And, oh, but it felt good.

He zipped around the track, head totally in the zone, and on the second to last lap, he set his sights on overtaking the Yamaha just ahead. He accelerated, throwing himself into the bend with focused intent, but it was too much. He overshot the corner and spilled off the track into the sand ditch. He quickly rolled as he hit the ground and the bike slid away from under him and spun to a rest a few feet away. He lay still for a moment, recovering from the fall, sore, winded and frustrated. Then, remembering his family were watching, he forced himself to move. He winced as he got to his feet, pain from the old injury in his ribs reawakened, but he ignored it. He pulled his helmet off and saw the medical team jogging over to him, but paid no attention to them. Instead his eyes went straight to the VIP box, where he could see Rimmer and Taylor on their feet, the boys peeking anxiously over the balcony. He grinned sheepishly and waved, showing that he was okay. Even from this distance, he saw Rimmer’s shoulders lower as he relaxed. After reassuring the medics, Lister picked the bike up and walked it back to the pits. There was no point getting back on, the race would be over in less than a minute, and his side was aching anyway. He was annoyed with himself for bailing out, but more so because he knew he couldn’t have picked a worse time to overreach himself. Rimmer was going to have plenty to say about this tonight.

               

                Rimmer didn’t wait until that night. He didn’t even wait until they got back to the hub. He came down with the boys and met Lister on the sidelines. “Are you okay?” he demanded instantly. Lister summoned up a playful demeanour for the twins sake, “Nope. I’m dead. You are now speaking with my ghost.”

“Very funny. Now answer me.”

“I’m fine,” Lister assured him breezily, “No harm done. The bike’s not even damaged. It was nothing.”

“That was so cool,” Bexley enthused, hugging his leg.

“Accidents are not ‘cool’,” Rimmer scolded him, “They’re dangerous. Daddy could have been badly hurt.”

“But Daddy’s _not_ hurt,” Lister stressed quickly, stroking his son’s hair, “Daddy does all his own stunts. There’s nothing to worry about.   I‘m just disappointed I didn’t place, that’s all.”

“I think we should go home,” Rimmer said, his expression still fretful, “I’ve sent Taylor to bring the car round.”

“Okay,” Lister agreed, desperate to placate him, “If you like.” There was no point hanging around and he didn’t want to start a row in front of the kids. He had no doubt that he and Rimmer would be discussing this all in detail later and he had a feeling he was going to need all his remaining energy for the impending argument.

“Still in one piece?” Taylor teased gently as he held the door open for him to slide into the limo.

“Yeah,” Lister sighed, casting a meaningful sidelong glance at his husband, “For now.” They shared a look and Taylor smiled sympathetically.

“Get in the car,” Rimmer said irritably, clocking the look and glaring at them both, “Let’s get out of here.” Taylor gave Lister a final look as he shut the door behind them and he didn’t need to speak for Lister to catch his meaning. _Good luck, Dave. You’re going to need it._

               

                Rimmer was tetchy for the rest of the evening, but he held back until the boys were asleep. “Well, that was a fun family day out.”

“Don’t start. I’m not hurt and the boys loved it.”

“ _This_ time you’re not hurt. Do you think they’d have still loved it if they had to watch you get scraped off the track with your neck broken?”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Am I? Do you know how many people are killed in that sport every year?”

“No. And neither do you. Stop making such a fuss.”

“The boys aren’t going down there again. If nothing else, I don’t want them to start thinking that they can do all their own stunts just like Daddy.”

“Fine. I’ll go on my own.”

“Why can’t you take up something more suitable?”

“More suitable for what?”

“For someone with a family!”

“Why bother? If I took up knitting you’d worry about me poking my eye out with a needle or accidentally strangling myself with yarn.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. This is serious.”

“I’ll be as sarcastic as I like and I’ll take part in whatever hobbies I like!” Lister snapped, walking out.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to take a bath. _If_ that’s alright with you. Don’t worry, I’ll wear water wings!” He stomped out.

 

In the bathroom, he checked himself over in the mirror and carefully palpated his side. Tender, but no sharp pain and no signs of anything serious. Relieved, he sank into the hot water and let it soothe the ache. A few minutes later Rimmer crept in. Lister eyed him sulkily. “Please don’t tell me you’ve actually come to check I’m not drowning. Can I not even be trusted to take a bath now?”

“Shut up,” Rimmer said, perching on the side of the tub and stroking his hair tenderly. “I’ve just come to see if you want your back scrubbed.” Lister considered the peace offering.

“I wouldn’t say no.” He leaned forward, hugging his knees as Rimmer gently massaged his back with the scrubbing brush. Once he was done, he leaned back again into the warm water, hissing slightly through his teeth as his side throbbed. He immediately cursed himself as he saw Rimmer’s face.

 

“You _are_ hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier? You should have gone straight to the doctor.”

“I’m just a bit bruised.”

“You should have an x-ray just to be sure.”

“I don’t need an x-ray. I know what broken bones feel like.”

“But…”

“I’m _okay_ ,” Lister interrupted him, frustrated.

He firmly pulled Rimmer down to eye level, taking his face in his hands. “Will you just chill out? I fell down. I picked up some bruises. That’s _all_. Stop worrying.”

“ _This_ time it’s all. What about next time?”

“Next time I’ll know to go slower on that corner. Darlin’, this has to stop. You can’t freak out every time I get a papercut.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t understand how hard it is to watch you being so reckless.”

“I am not reckless! Look, even if the worst happened and I broke my neck, it’s not like you’d lose me forever. We keep the personality disc updated regularly. I’d lose – what – like two weeks memories at most?”

“Don’t you dare be so flippant about your own life,” Rimmer said fiercely, “Being a hologram isn’t like a cheat code in a computer game where you get another turn if you mess up. It’s not like falling asleep and waking up again. For the hologram that gets generated it might feel like that, but _you_ would still be dead. Do you understand that? For _you_ it would be the end. There’d be no waking up. Dave Lister, who I met and married and love completely, would still be dead and gone.”

“So what are you saying?” Lister asked, “You wouldn’t love me as much if I came back as a hologram? I’d still be me, just like you’re still the person you were before you died.”

“Except I’m not,” Rimmer stressed to him, “I’ve got the memories and the personality but ultimately I’m just a computer simulation of who Arnold Rimmer was. That’s all. And while I wouldn’t hesitate to use that back-up disc if it came to it, and would still love that computer simulation of you more than anything in the universe, I’m also aware that it would only be a _version_ of you; and I want the real thing for as long as possible. I want to watch you live and laugh and play with the kids, and feel your heart racing when we make love, and watch your face change over the years. And I want to know that Dave Lister experienced all those things too, because if he takes that corner too fast next time and breaks his neck, then he never will. Do you understand?”

                Lister let out his breath slowly. Rimmer’s words had shaken him and he didn’t want to dwell on this anymore. “Yes,” he said quietly, “I understand.” He reached up and took Rimmer’s hand.

“Let’s change the subject, eh? Have some fun. But, uh,” he smiled sheepishly, “nothing too strenuous, ok?”

“Ok.” Rimmer kissed his fingers.

 

                When Lister climbed out of the bath, Rimmer gently massaged oil into his skin, then patted him dry with a soft warm towel, inspecting him all over for bruises as he did so. When he was content that Lister’s injuries were as minor as he had claimed, he wrapped him back in the towel and they slipped into the playroom.

                “Gently, remember,” Lister reminded him warily as he was taken to the bed and his towel removed.

Rimmer tutted playfully, “Such fragile, delicate things these human bodies. So easily bruised and broken. And you wonder why I worry about you.”

“You’re just jealous,” Lister teased back, “because you like to be the only one who gives me bruises.” It was banter. Rimmer had never deliberately left a mark on him in all the years they’d been together. “That’s right,” Rimmer played along, “But don’t worry, baby. I can dominate you gently.” He leaned over and nuzzled Lister’s nose with his, “I’ll treat you as gently as a newborn lamb.”

                He rolled Lister onto his front, careful of his bruised side, and kissed his way down his spine. Relaxed from his bath and his massage, Lister closed his eyes and didn’t even open them when he felt the collar being fastened around his throat, or his hands being tethered at the small of his back with the long leash attached to it. It had been a long time since such bonds had troubled him. He felt the warm weight of Rimmer’s hands parting his thighs as he knelt between them, and then those hands moved up and gently parted his buttocks. When he felt the probing wet heat of Rimmer’s tongue in his ass, _then_ his eyes opened. He gasped, his hips automatically rocking backwards to increase the sensation, then forward again to stimulate his cock. “Easy, baby,” Rimmer murmured into him, “We’re just getting started.” His tongue delved again and Lister moaned.

“Ohhh…I can’t. It’s too much, I can’t take it…”

“You always say that. But you always do. And I think you’re far too delicate right now for anything more boisterous.”

                His tongue went to work again, lapping, circling, twisting. Lister squirmed beneath him, his erection like a hot stone between his legs. “Oh God. Oh, please.” This most intimate, exquisite form of love-making always turned him to jelly. The persistent gentle motion of Rimmer’s tongue did things to his nerve-endings that shouldn’t be legal. And to think, when he’d met this man he’d never even known what this was, that this was an actual thing that people did. “Try to relax,” Rimmer whispered, “I can do this all night.”

“Maybe you can, but I can’t!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” That slick crafty muscle, with its gentle static thrum, caressed and skewered him again and he cried out as if in pain.

“Oh Jeeesus…”

“Wrong name, baby. Try again.”

“Arn…Arnold…Sir…Oh, I’m going to _die_.”  

“No, you’re not. I won’t let you. But I’m not going to stop. I’m going to tongue-fuck you into an exhausted quivering _mess_ , David Lister. And maybe once I’m done, I’ll put that sweet little tongue of yours to work on my cock.”

                A long time later, they lay side by side on the playroom bed, panting. “You okay?” Rimmer murmured, one hand on Lister’s chest, “Your heart is still racing.”

“I’ll live.”             

“Listen,” Rimmer rolled onto his side and looked down at him, “I’m sorry if I was a bit…overbearing earlier. But I meant what I said. It’s hard for me to watch you on that thing. Especially after you’ve already had such a narrow escape. Back-up disc or not, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened you. I think you forget sometimes how precious all of this is to me. You and the boys…I never even dreamed of having what we have. I spent so long thinking this kind of life - that _love_ \- was an impossibility for me. And I can’t take the risk of it slipping away. I can’t risk losing you.”

“Hey,” Lister reached up and stroked his face with one gentle finger. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere. But this bird’s gotta fly, you know what I mean? I promise you, I won’t be an idiot. I won’t be reckless. But I’ve got to be me. You get that, right, man?”

“I get it,” Rimmer agreed softly, “And dammit all, that’s why I love you so much.”


	6. Chapter 6

                Lister was at work having lunch with Petrovitch when an email from Kochanski popped up in both their inboxes. Lister opened it with a smile. She’d joined the space corps as a navigation officer after they’d left the academy so he rarely saw her these days, but luckily she was far better at keeping in touch than he was. She’d actually been considering a position on _Red_ _Dwarf_ , but after he and Rimmer had returned from their dimension-jumping adventure with the story of the ill-fated mining ship, the JMC had decommissioned all the Class 2 vessels pending a full investigation into their safety. Whatever else he and Rimmer had accomplished with the feat, they may well have saved over a thousand lives, including hers.

                She had signed up on a newer ship and seemed to be enjoying her job and her life. The last time he’d seen her had been when the twins were around eighteen months old and she’d visited him at the hub while on shore leave. It had been a bittersweet meeting in some ways. She’d held Jim in her lap while Lister struggled to manage a slightly cantankerous Bexley who had the beginnings of a cold. “If you find you’re feeling broody at any point,” he joked wearily as his son pulled at his sleeve, whining for attention, “please feel free to take these off my hands for an afternoon some time.”

Kochanski laughed, “Not broody, I’m afraid. Not yet anyway. There’s still too much on my to-do list before the whole marriage and babies thing. We’re not all at the top of the career ladder, breaking new ground and changing the world at this age, you know. I need to do some catching up first.” She looked down into Jim’s wide brown eyes and smiled wistfully, “Although they are gorgeous. And looking more like you every day.”

“Poor little mites.”

                She sighed and stroked Jim’s fluffy curls, “Don’t be silly. But, all the same,” she hesitated for a second, “I can’t see those eyes looking up at me and not wonder what might have been.”

“Really?” Lister was surprised. He’d wondered once, in another lifetime, what their children might look like; back in the days when he’d had a raging crush on her and Arnold Rimmer was just a meaningless name in the Financial Times. Although he knew she’d have been open to the idea of a relationship between them if they’d ever got around to it, he didn’t think she’d ever given the idea as much thought as he had.

                “Yeah,” she said, “I mean, you of all people know that every possibility gets played out somewhere. Have you never wondered what would have happened if we’d hooked up?”

“Of course. I’m just a little surprised that _you_ have. I never thought you liked me quite as much as I liked you.”

“I always liked you,” she told him fondly, “When people find out we’re friends and want to know about you, I always tell them that David Lister was the best boyfriend I never had.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Lister couldn’t help but grin, “If I hadn’t been trying so hard to impress you, I’d have never met Arn.”

“I shot myself in the foot with that one, didn’t I?” she remarked ruefully. “You know, at your wedding when Rimmer was giving his speech, I watched you, watching him and…” She shook her head, trying to find the words, “... I remembered the day after your first date with him, the day I introduced you to Aleks. You were on _such_ a high. You were practically giddy. And I realised that…I never really stood a chance after that day. I mean,” she glanced around the apartment, “I get it. Of course you were excited. Seeing this place for the first time must have blown your mind.”

“Oh, it did,” Lister confirmed, thinking of the locked door down the hallway.

“But it was more than that, and I could see it even then. You fell head over heels that night.”

“I suppose so. Shame it took Arn so long to catch up.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Dave,” she told him sadly, “Are you really that oblivious? It was obvious from the first time I ever saw you two in a room together that Arnold was head over heels for you.”

 

                Lister and Petrovitch read through her email together and agreed that she seemed to be very content. “She doesn’t say if she is dating anyone,” Petrovitch noted, “Perhaps she is too busy.”

“Maybe she’s living it up and playing the field,” Lister remarked, “Just like you.”

“Sometimes David, it feels more like the field is playing me.”

                Lister’s phone rang and he was surprised to see Mrs Jones’ name on the screen. “Hey,” he answered, “What’s up?”

“Hello, dear. I just need to run something past you. There’s a burst pipe down here at the playgroup. Rather than sending all the little ones home and pulling the parents out of work, they’ve suggested taking them out to the playcentre across town for the afternoon. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah, I guess so, if you’re happy to go with them.” Lister paused, Rimmer’s face suddenly appearing in his mind’s eye with pursed lips. “Who else is going with you?”

“It’ll be me, the two teachers, a couple of mums and dads, and one of the security lads. I’m sure we can cope between us.” Lister relaxed.

“Okay, it’s fine with me. I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Okay, dear. Have a good day.”

“Everything ok?” Petrovitch asked when he hung up.    

“Everything’s fine. Just dad stuff. Thank goodness for Mrs Jones.”

“You are very lucky to have her. She is such a help to you.”

“Mate, she is the definition of indispensable. I don’t know what we’d do without her.”

“I wish my mother lived closer. I should visit her.”

“Mrs Jones is brilliant, but she isn’t my mother!” Lister protested, embarrassed.

“Oh, really? Who washed the clothes you are wearing? Who made that sandwich you just scoffed down?”

“Yes, yes, alright. Point taken. I am a poor excuse for an adult.”

“My point is that you must not take her for granted. Not everyone is as fortunate as you.”

“I know, man,” Lister said, abashed, “Believe me, I know.”

 

                The boys were still excited from their day trip when he came home, rushing to tell him all about it and show him the prizes they’d won on the games. Lister turned to Mrs Jones with a smile, “They had fun then?”

“We all had fun, didn’t we?” Mrs Jones confirmed with the twins, “It was nice to do something a bit different.”

“Maybe we’ll take them back on our next day off.”

“Back where?” Rimmer asked, entering the kitchen and surveying the scene suspiciously, “What’s all this?”

“The boys have been out with playgroup today,” Lister told him, “They went to that new place with all the indoor slides and the mini-arcade games and stuff. They loved it, I was just saying we should go again as a family.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean they went _out_ with playgroup?”

“A pipe burst. They had to do something with them.”

“So they just decided to take them all on a jaunt across town?”

“It would have been a nightmare if they’d had to send them all home at short notice.”

“That’s not the point!”

                Lister glanced up, suddenly aware that Rimmer was genuinely angry. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t authorise any day trip.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like they weren’t supervised. Mrs Jones went with them.”

“Really?” Rimmer rounded on her angrily, “Is this true?”

“Yes,” she said perplexed, “There were quite a few of us grown-ups and a member of the security team as a precaution. It was all perfectly safe.”

“That is _not_ your judgement to make!” Rimmer told her sternly, “They are not your children and it is not your place to make that call.”

“She didn’t make that call,” Lister stepped in firmly, “ _I_ did.”

Rimmer stopped glaring at Mrs Jones and turned to glare at Lister, “ _You_ did?”

“Yes.”

Lister turned to their housekeeper, “Mrs Jones, could you take the boys to the playroom for a bit, please? Me and their papa need to have a little chat.”

“The playroom? Oh, yes, of course. The _playroom_. Come on, dears. Pick up those toys and bring

them with you.” She shooed the twins out, throwing an anxious look at their parents as she did so.

Lister faced Rimmer squarely, “Mrs Jones called me at lunchtime and asked for my permission to take the boys, and I gave it.”

“What the hell made you think I’d be okay with this?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you be? They went on a class trip. They had a nice time. What’s the issue?”

“What’s the issue? If I have a problem with _you_ gallivanting around by yourself, I’m hardly going to be happy about the children doing it, am I? What were you thinking?”

“They weren’t by themselves! They were well-supervised, they had someone we know and trust with them, they had security…”

“They had _one_ security guard for a whole class of children!”

“…and they are _fine_.”

“You still should have checked with me first.”

“Why?” Lister demanded, drawing himself up to his full – although admittedly still not impressive – height, “I do not need your approval to make decisions about my children.”

“They’re my children too! I’m their father just as much as you are.”

“That’s right. You are their _father_ and you are my _husband_. You are not the boss.   Do you understand me? You are _not_ the Chief Executive of this family!”

“Fine,” Rimmer said shortly, “You don’t need my permission, I accept that. But we’re supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to be doing this parenting thing together. Even if you don’t agree with my views, it would be nice if you took them into account and you must have known I wouldn’t like this.”

“The arrangements seemed perfectly acceptable to me. It’s not like I didn’t check. I really didn’t think you’d have a problem with it.” It was true; but it made him wonder if it was pure coincidence that Mrs Jones had come to him rather than Rimmer for permission. He suspected not.

                “Look, it doesn’t matter now,” Rimmer said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “What’s done is done, and the boys are home safe. But I’d appreciate being included in the discussion next time.”

“It won’t be a discussion though, will it? Why should I bother asking if I already know you’re going to say no?” Rimmer glowered at him. Lister met his stare but - recognising the warning signs in his husband’s tense face - he decided that now might not be the time to push it. Better to wait until he was in a more amenable mood. Instead he changed the subject.

“Go and apologise to Mrs Jones. You shouldn’t have snapped at her.”

Rimmer’s expression softened into something a little more remorseful, “Yes, okay.”

“And we should do something nice for her. She doesn’t get enough appreciation for all she does around here.”

“She gets paid.”

“Go!” Lister growled fiercely, deciding that he was in no mood to be pushed tonight either. Rimmer raised an eyebrow, but went without another word.

                Lister sighed and poured himself a glass of wine. Parenting was hard, but it was nothing on marriage sometimes.

 

                Later that night, as they sat side by side on the couch watching TV, he felt Rimmer’s hand on his knee. He ignored it.   “You’re still angry, aren’t you?” Rimmer said.

“I’m just tired.”

“Look at me.”

                Lister turned to him and tried to look placid but, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t suppress the reproachful look that emerged when he looked into Rimmer’s hazel eyes.

“I don’t want to stop them having fun. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be this ogre that always says no. I don’t want to always have to be the bad guy.”

“So don’t be.”

“But I have to do what I think is right for them. If I say no, it’s for a reason. Not because I’m trying to be a spoilsport. I’d like it if you could try to be more supportive of those decisions.”

“I have to do what I think is right too,” Lister told him stubbornly, “And if I don’t agree with your reasoning then I’m not going to fall in line for the sake of a quiet life.”

“This isn’t about you.”

“No. And it’s not about the kids either. It’s about you.”

“Dave...”

“They spend far too much time in this tower as it is.”

“We take them out all the time.”

“That’s fine. But it’s not enough. They need new experiences, they need to meet other kids. Hell, they need to get picked on so they can learn to stand up for themselves.”

“Listen, if I catch any snotty little rat picking on them...”

“...then you’ll step back and let them handle it, unless absolutely necessary. Okay?”

                Rimmer bristled, “No, it’s not okay! Have you ever been bullied?”

“Of course I have. You think growing up in Toxteth was a walk in the park? I can’t tell you how many times I got my arse kicked. You suck it up, you shake it off, and in the end you’re stronger for it. I mean, look at you. Do you really think you’d be who you are today if you’d had an easy life? All the crap you went through, it’s what made you a fighter. It’s the reason you’re now one of the biggest, baddest dogs in the solar system. Look around you, look what you’ve become. Wasn’t it worth it?”

“No,” Rimmer said shortly, “Not all of it.”

Lister sat back, defeated. So much for that argument. “Okay, maybe not everything you went through has a silver lining. But you can’t project all of that onto Jim and Bexley. Things are going to be different for them. They’ve got us. And smegging hell, babe, if you can’t let them out of your sight without freaking out, what are you going to be like if we have a daughter? How are you going to cope with that?”

“A daughter???” The very words were enough to send Rimmer’s features into a caricature of utter panic. “Who said anything about us having a daughter?!”

“It’s hypothetical,” Lister said, irritated. “But the point stands. What are you going to do if it happens? Keep her in the tower and get a genetically-engineered dragon to guard the entrance? Hire a twenty-four hour security guard and make her wear a chastity belt whenever she leaves the house?”

                It should have been a joke, but it wasn’t. There were chastity devices in the playroom. One time, when Rimmer had gone away for a few days on business, he’d made Lister wear one while he was away, taking the key with him. A combination of tight leather straps and metal rings had kept Lister’s cock bound tightly down so he couldn’t get erect and certainly couldn’t masturbate. Of course, knowing that he couldn’t just made him want to all the more. Aroused and frustrated, his cock had throbbed persistently in the trap, the torment only subsiding when the discomfort of the metal rings pressing tightly into his swollen member began to outweigh his arousal. He’d be okay for a few hours, then he’d remember he was wearing the damn thing, start getting hard, and the ordeal would start all over again. The day Rimmer had returned, he’d particularly struggled, knowing that when his husband came home he’d finally be rid of the damn thing and the last three days of frustration would be made up for in spectacular fashion. He’d literally leapt on Rimmer the moment he stepped out of the lift into the penthouse. Rimmer had carried him to the playroom, strapped him tightly to the large wooden X on one wall, wrists and ankles spread, gagged him, blindfolded him, and proceeded to torment him for a good hour longer before unlocking the device and taking Lister’s swollen and aching cock into his mouth, his always faintly vibrating tongue sliding against him exquisitely. Lister had come so intensely his knees had given way and he’d seen spots in front of his eyes.

                “Hypothetical or not,” Rimmer said, his face chalky, “I’m not sure I want to think about it.”

“Well, maybe you should.”            

“Let’s just deal with one problem at a time, shall we?” Rimmer gave him a nervous lop-sided smile. He reached over and put an arm around Lister’s shoulders, “The boys are a handful as it is, and girls have never really been my forte.”

“I thought you were an expert in all biological fields,” Lister teased. The argument wasn’t over, but Rimmer’s arm felt good around him.

“Even professors are allowed to specialise,” Rimmer retorted, bending to nuzzle his neck.

“Does that make you Professor Loooove?” Lister grinned.

“Professor Love with a PhD in rocking your world,” Rimmer confirmed.

“Screw you, Professor. I think you’ll find that’s my specialty. And who says you’re going to be rocking anything tonight? I’m still smegged off at you.”

“Your specialty is driving Arnold Rimmer crazy. In every sense of the word. And I can’t help it if you’re sexy when you’re angry.”

Their discussion, and the direction things were taking, reminded Lister of something else they needed to chat about. “Have you thought any more about what we talked about the other day?” he asked gingerly, unwilling to start another argument. He saw Rimmer perform a quick mental scan of his memory and come up blank. “About the playroom?” he nudged.

“Oh,” Rimmer’s expression immediately soured, “No. Not really.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lister said quickly, “There’s no rush. Just...think about it, okay?”

“I don’t really see what we can do. It would be far too inconvenient to move everything somewhere else.”

“We don’t have to move _all_ of it. Just some of the bigger stuff. There’s a lot of bits and pieces we could store discreetly in the bedroom.”

“The kids are far more likely to find things in the bedroom. I thought the whole idea was to reduce that chance.”

“There’s a big difference between finding some bondage rope and a whip at the back of your parent’s wardrobe and walking into a fully kitted out dungeon.”     

“Some rope and a whip? Is that all I’m allowed now?”

“It was just an example. Besides,” Lister stroked his hair and his ego, “You’re very resourceful. I’m sure you could find lots of innovative ways to deal with the restrictions.”

“I could. That doesn’t mean I want to.”

                Lister refrained from rolling his eyes. “Could we at least get rid of the cage?” he asked, trying to compromise, “We’ve never used it and we’re never going to use it.”

“You might change your mind about it one day.”

“I’m not going to stop being claustrophobic any more than you’re going to stop being a control freak. Try and meet me in the middle here, darling.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll lose the cage.”

“Thank you.” Lister decided to leave it at that for now. It wasn’t much of a victory, but it was progress at least.

                He kissed Rimmer’s cheek. “Let’s do something nice as a family this weekend, hmm? Prove you’re not such a big bad ogre after all?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Rimmer agreed, “I’ll arrange something.” He gently pulled Lister to his feet and tugged him down the hallway. “But let me be the big bad ogre for a bit first, hmm?”


	7. Chapter 7

            On Saturday morning they climbed into the jet, Jim and Bexley strapped in the back, and took off for a family day out. “Where are we going?” Jim asked.

“Yeah, where are we going?” Bexley echoed.

“I don’t know,” Lister told them, “Papa says it’s a surprise. We have to wait until we get there.”

            When they touched down a short flight later at Titan shuttleport, Lister got his first inkling of where they were headed. “Titan, eh?” he remarked, smiling, “Now, what is there to do on Titan?”

“My lips are sealed.”

“We’re not taking the jet straight there?” Lister asked.

“No,” Rimmer said, “It’s too conspicuous. I thought we’d try going a little more incognito.”

            Lister took this on board, but said nothing. The man he’d married did _nothing_ incognito. His name was spelled out down the sides of the jet and across the top of his many towers for a reason; and that reason wasn’t just advertising. As they climbed out of the jet, a vintage Maybach limo drew up alongside them and purred to a halt. Lister turned to look at his husband, “You’re right,” he said sarcastically, “This is far less conspicuous.”

“Well,” Rimmer smiled sheepishly, “Less conspicuous than the jet.”

“If you say so.”

“Just because I don’t want to be noticed, doesn’t mean I don’t want to travel in comfort.”

“Right. And _nobody_ will notice this.”

“Get in.”

            Lister tucked both of the twins into one of the gigantic leather seats and he and Rimmer settled into the recliners opposite. As the car rolled away, Lister found himself watching the boys curiously. They showed no interest in the luxury or the gadgets surrounding them, they were happy just peering out of the window. He tried telling himself that it was just their age, that they were still at the point in their lives where boxes could be more interesting than toys, but he knew it wasn’t just that. This car wasn’t radically different from their own limousine. As far as his children knew, this was what all cars were like. That thought terrified Lister slightly.

            When the car rolled up outside the garish signs for Titan Zoo, he turned to Rimmer with surprise. “There’s people here,” he remarked, “You mean, you didn’t buy the place out for the day this time? We’re actually going to mingle with the hoi polloi?”

“Yes,” Rimmer replied, “I thought it might be a good experience for the boys.”

“What?” Lister teased, “Without security guards?” Rimmer didn’t answer. Instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out some dark glasses, which he handed to Lister. “Put these on. Try not to make eye contact with people and don’t talk too much. You’ve got a very distinctive voice and people might recognise that before they recognise you.”

“It’s nice to see you’re so relaxed about this,” Lister remarked, his voice dripping with irony. Rimmer put on his own glasses and ducked out of the car, walking around to help the boys out the other side. Lister sighed, put the sunglasses on, and went to help him. As with so much in this marriage, this was about limits; and Rimmer was already pushing his with this day trip. If keeping his face covered and mouth shut meant that the boys could spend a day being (almost) normal children, he wasn’t going to complain.

           

            It was a bright, clear day and the zoo was fairly busy. Lister could feel his husband’s tension as they made their way along. Rimmer was not used to crowds and he was watching the twins like a hawk, but overall he was hiding his discomfort well.

            They stopped for a while at the meerkat enclosure to watch them being fed, and Jim and Bexley joined the throng of children at the front to get a good look. Lister viewed the scene with warm satisfaction. “This was a nice idea,” he said softly, leaning against Rimmer’s shoulder, “Thank you.”

“Remember the last time we came here?” Rimmer asked, putting an arm around him.

“Of course I do.”

“Things were simpler back then, weren’t they?”

“For _you_ maybe.” Lister turned to murmur in his ear, “Are you pining for the good old days, when you were a sexy lone wolf who didn’t mess around with all this relationship nonsense, and I was just your obedient sex slave?”

“Obedient? That’s not how I remember it.”

Lister laughed softly under his breath and felt Rimmer squeeze him.

            The boys scurried back to them, eager to move on. “Where shall we go next?” The four of them huddled together to look at the map. “Daddy, you like panda bears!” Jim exclaimed, pointing to the corresponding picture, “You’ve got one in your bedroom!”

“I do,” Lister confirmed, with a secret smile at his husband. He did; and he still loved it. “Let’s go take a look, shall we?”

            As they walked away, Lister caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar man in a suit starting to follow them. He gripped Rimmer’s hand, “Arn.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Guy in the suit.”

“It’s okay,” Rimmer whispered, “He’s just keeping an eye on us.”

“You _did_ bring security!”

“Shhh. I don’t want the boys to notice.”

“You could have told me!”

“I didn’t want you to notice either. Today is supposed to be about trying to be normal. Just ignore him.”

            Lister flicked another glance at the man and stopped himself from sighing.

He should have known that Rimmer’s limits would only stretch so far. So much for normal.

 

At the end of the day, when they were back in the car and rumbling towards the shuttleport, the boys fell asleep slumped together in the cradle of their huge seat. Jim was clutching a fluffy meerkat toy, Bexley was gripping a lemur. “Will you look at that?” Lister commented, “As if butter wouldn’t melt.”

“They look so angelic when they’re sleeping. But then...” Rimmer leaned over and kissed his cheek gently, “...they take after their daddy.”

“Am I cute when I’m sleeping?”

“When you’re not snoring. Which reminds me,” Rimmer reached into the gift shop carrier bag at his feet, “I picked up a little souvenir for you as well.” He drew out a small furry toy panda and put it in Lister’s lap. He took it with a smile and tried to hide how touched he was. “You soppy git.”

“For the record,” Rimmer told him, “Even after all this time, still not as cute as you.”

            They kissed. Then kissed again. And again. Lister felt his husband’s hands starting to stray. “Wait,” he whispered breathlessly, moving a particularly intrepid hand back, “Wait until we get back to the hub.”

“I want you now.”

“We’ll wake the kids.”

“They’re out for the count. It’ll be fine.”

“Patience, Rimsy,” Lister moved away from him with a smile, quietly pleased at the annoyance on his face. It wasn’t often he got to call the shots.

When they finally touched down, they each carried a twin into the elevator and down into the penthouse, before changing them into their pj’s and tucking them into bed. As Lister turned their bedroom light out, Rimmer drew him firmly out of the room and closed the door. “Family time is over for the day,” he told him, “Now it’s grown-up time.”

“Just like that, eh? You think you can drop a stuffed panda in me lap and I’m yours?” Lister joked.

“You _are_ mine,” Rimmer kissed him, “And I’m all yours.”

“Give me a minute,” Lister slipped away from him teasingly, “I just need a glass of water.” He didn’t, but it was fun to make Rimmer wait. Rimmer growled impatiently, “Make it quick.”

“I’ll only be a minute,” Lister promised innocently.

            When Lister finally sauntered out of the kitchen, Rimmer was waiting for him, sprawled naked and ready across the couch. His clothes were in a pile on the rug and his cock was glistening and erect. “That was longer than a minute.”

“Barely.”

“Get over here.”

“I dunno. I think I might need to pee…” Lister pretended to duck past him, but Rimmer caught him by the back of his jeans and hauled him back, “Enough stalling, Squire.”

Rimmer sat up and snapped open Lister’s belt, yanking it through the loops and tugging open his fly in a business-like manner. Lister smiled to himself at the combination of annoyance and desire in his husband’s face. It was a look he knew well. Mainly because he was always the cause of it. “You’re so impatient,” he scolded as his jeans and boxers were yanked to the floor. He stepped out of them lazily and nudged them away with a foot. His demeanour was indifferent but the erection peeping out beneath his shirt gave him away. He was just as eager for this as Rimmer.

Rimmer reached under the shirt to grasp his buttocks, pulling him forward and running his tongue up his cock. “And you’re a filthy tease,” he complained. Lister put his hands on his shoulders and pushed him back a little, bending down to kiss him. “Hey,” he said, “You can’t always have it all your own way.”

He kissed him again, easing down onto the couch and straddling Rimmer’s lap. He felt the solid warmth of Rimmer’s erection between his legs, slipping into the crease of his buttocks, and he rocked his hips, sliding himself back and forth along the length of it. Rimmer’s hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt and ran gently up and down the sides of Lister’s ribcage, not quite stroking, not quite tickling, then slid down his back to grasp his buttocks again. He gripped him tight, then twisted to one side and fell full-length back across the couch with Lister on top of him, their lips still tightly locked together.

            Lister braced his hands on his chest and looked down at him. He gazed at those dreamy lust-filled eyes, at the kiss-bruised lips and the mussed hair and was struck with a sudden and unusually strong desire to take charge. He wanted to bury himself in this man, he wanted to be inside him and watch those lips moan. He wanted to watch his expression change with every movement of his hips. He wanted to see him gasp as he entered him.

“I want you,” he whispered, between kisses, using his tongue to do to Rimmer’s mouth what he wanted to do to his backside. “I want to fuck you.”

            Immediately he felt Rimmer’s hands on his wrists, moving him back as he sat up. “Naughty boy,” Rimmer reprimanded teasingly, “You know that’s not allowed. You’re getting too bold, miladdo.”

“But...”

“Shhh...” Rimmer put his arms around him, still holding his wrists and conveniently bringing Lister’s arms behind his back, where he used his discarded belt to secure them. “That’s more like it,” he stated smugly. He reached up and ran his hands over Lister’s bare chest, “That’s _much_ better.”

            Lister squirmed at his touch. It felt good, but smeg it all, he wanted more. He wanted to be pressed against him, to feel that strong body arching beneath him, those silky curls between his fingers. “C’mon,” he pleaded, “At least let me touch you.”

“You’re a little demanding tonight, baby. I think you need reminding of your place.” Rimmer’s lips pulled firmly on each of his nipples in turn, making him groan and shudder. “Which, by the way…” Strong fingers grasped his hips, lifting and manoevering him, and then lowering him decisively, “…is right here on my cock.”

            Lister gritted his teeth as he slid down onto the oiled shaft and Rimmer immediately thrust his hips up, slamming into him deliciously, making him gasp and whimper. He felt Rimmer’s knees against his back and leaned against them to brace himself. “Now,” Rimmer lay back down to rest his head amongst the cushions, looking up at Lister with a smile that was not at all sweet, and curled one hand tightly around the base of his cock, “I want you to fuck yourself.”

“What?!”

“Go on. I’m going to lie here and I want you to bring yourself off. I want to see those hips dance. Do it.”

“Ugh,” Lister made a sound that was half fury and half arousal, “You are such a _jerk_ sometimes.”

“Consider it your punishment for making me wait. I always warn you not to play games with me, but you never listen.”

Annoyed and humiliated, but horny as hell, he began to grind himself up and down on Rimmer’s rigid erection, rocking himself to get some friction from the tight fingers on his cock. It would have been hard enough with his hands free, but unable to put his arms out to steady or balance himself it was even worse. Rimmer lay utterly still beneath him, not assisting in any fashion, just watching his increasingly desperate movements with a slightly mocking smile.

            Before long, Lister was breathless and sweaty and his thigh muscles were aching with the effort, and he was still nowhere near orgasm. He couldn’t get enough stimulation on his prostate and his cock at the same time to be satisfying, and he was going crazy with need. Rimmer, on the other hand, was making deep contented sounds of pleasure; clearly loving his frantic writhing, even if he was doing sod all to help.

“God-smegging-dammit, Arn!” Lister panted, working his pelvis in a frenzied figure of eight, “It’s no good. I can’t…”

“Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop.”

“Please! It’s not enough!”

“Then you need to work harder.”

“I can’t! I…need…more…” He threw his head back, biting his lip to hold down a scream of combined delight and frustration as Rimmer suddenly came in him without warning. He rocked deliriously, savouring the sensation, but it still wasn’t the push he needed to send him over the edge. He made a sound that was almost a sob as he felt the fizzing fountain of Rimmer’s orgasm ebbing away and, either taking pity or simply realising that patience wasn’t going to be enough tonight, Rimmer pushed him off his softening cock and back across the sofa, pressed his knees up to his chest, threw his legs over his shoulders and deep-throated him. Lister swore loudly _(smeg hope the boys didn’t hear that)_ as the tight wet heat enveloped him, instantly thrusting upwards. The tip of his cock touched the back of Rimmer’s throat and at the same moment he felt two fingers open him and fill him and _yes_ , he was there, his cock pulsing strongly as he finally spurted, Rimmer’s lips and tongue and throat still working him, and he couldn’t even form words, just mindless sounds of ecstasy.

            After a moment or two, Rimmer crawled up to lay beside him, cheek-to-cheek as they panted for breath. Lister rolled onto his side, nestling into the warm curve of his body and Rimmer reached around to free his arms for him; and he immediately pulled them out and wrapped them around Rimmer’s neck. “Better?” Rimmer asked teasingly.

“I was starting to think my balls were gonna blow.”

“Aw, baby. You don’t think I’d let that happen?” Rimmer kissed him and Lister tasted a hint of his own musky juices.

“You are an utter git, Mr Rimmer,” he murmured into his mouth, “And you are unnecessarily cruel.”

“I know. But you love it.”

            Lister looked up at him mournfully. They’d had this conversation before, and he knew this time wouldn’t be any different, but still…

“I wish you’d let me,” he told him softly.

Rimmer gave him a sad half-smile, “Well, there’s all kinds of things I’d love to do to you too which are apparently off-limits.” He lightly kissed the tip of Lister’s nose.

“Hey, we both know that what you have in mind has to be pretty damn messy before I’ll say no,” Lister argued. “All I want is to make love to you.”

“But I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Oh, eh! Thanks for the vote of confidence!”

“Look, I don’t mean it like that. You know I don’t.” Rimmer cupped his face, his thumb stroking his cheek lovingly. “I adore you. I think you’re amazing in every way and I don’t expect that in this regard you would be any different.”

“But you still can’t trust me enough to even consider it?”

“Tell you what,” Rimmer smirked, “I’ll consider it, if _you_ agree to a playroom session with the cage before I sell it. I found a buyer and I’m shipping it on Monday.”

Lister recoiled, “You know how I feel about that thing.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Rimmer asked with an evil smile.

“Don’t do that. It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

            Lister considered this. Was it the same? He didn’t feel like he was asking for much but if this relationship had taught him anything, it was that everybody had different limits. He could respect his husband’s position, even understand it to a degree, but that didn’t stop it from being frustrating. And it didn’t stop it from hurting just a little. “Never mind,” he forced a smile, “I suppose no-one can have absolutely everything they want. Even us.”

“That’s a ‘no’ to the cage then?”

“Yeah, that’s a big fat ‘no’.”

“Okay, then,” Rimmer kissed him gently, “I still love you anyway.”

“I love you too.”


	8. Chapter 8

                Over the next few days, Lister found his mind returning to his fleeting concern about the children over and over. His sons had everything they could possibly need or desire and, as far as he could tell, it didn’t seem to have done them any harm. They didn’t seem spoiled to him, they’d inherited his easy-going spirit, and tantrums were few and far between. But the worry nagged at him. They were still okay now, but what would they be like in five years, or ten years, when they began to understand that the universe was not built to be their personal playground? And, more worryingly, what if they never gained that understanding?

                “I want to take the kids to Liverpool,” he announced to Rimmer one day.

“Yes, of course,” Rimmer said vaguely, “We should take them on a tour of Earth when they’re a bit older anyway.”

“I mean, I want to show them where I grew up.”

“That’s a nice idea.”

“No,” Lister said to him, “I’m not talking about a city tour or sightseeing. I’m not talking about ‘nice’. I want to show them the other side. The Liverpool _I_ knew. The estate where I grew up, my gran’s old house, the orphanage. I want them to understand where I’m from, where _they’re_ from. Do you get what I’m saying? I want them to know what life is like for other people. _Real_ life.”

“That’s a sweet idea, darling,” Rimmer told him dismissively, “But it’s hardly practical, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t think it would be very wise to drive a limo into the middle of Toxteth, for a start.”

“Why do I feel like you’ve missed the point here?”

“I understand what you’re saying and I agree that it’s right to show them how the other half live. I just don’t think dragging them around your old neighbourhood is such a good idea.”

“The other half? Newsflash for you, babe – I’m not talking about the other half. I’m talking about the other 99.9% of the human race. Because us, with our limo and our private jet, and everything else we’ve got, we’re not even the 1%. And Jim and Bexley need to realise that sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, yes, okay,” Rimmer kissed the top of his head as he wandered past, “I get the point. But all the same, I’m not sure it’s appropriate for us to be hanging around somewhere like that. Not unless you decide to invest in that ‘tank’ with the bullet-proof glass anyway.”

“They’re poor people,” Lister said, annoyed, “Not savages!”

“And if you and your mates had seen a car like ours parked up on your estate, what would you have done?” Rimmer challenged with a knowing smile. David Lister, who had hotwired his first car at thirteen years of age and thieved many a hubcap in his time, glared at him and said, “You are such a snob, man. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe we could leave the limo at home from time to time? Maybe just pile into a regular family car and go someplace without announcing our presence to the world?”

“I don’t think I’d like that. I didn’t rise to the top of the corporate ladder to pootle around in a people carrier, thank you very much.”

“See, that right there is exactly the kind of attitude I don’t want the boys developing.”

                Rimmer put his arms around Lister’s shoulders from behind, “There’s no point squabbling about it at the moment, we’re not taking them anywhere just yet. They’re too young to really take it all in anyway. But we will take them back to Liverpool, I promise you that. Maybe take them to visit your Gran’s grave as well while we’re there. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Lister relented quietly, reaching up to take Rimmer’s hands in his, “I would.” Maybe his husband did understand better than he thought. Rimmer kissed the side of his neck, “Come on, little street-rat. If you’re serious about keeping it real, maybe you should help Mrs Jones do the cleaning one day.”

“Yes, dusting our luxurious penthouse with its built-in sex palace will really put me in touch with the struggles of the working class.”

“Don’t fancy getting your hands dirty with the cleaning then?”

“Shut up.”

               

 

One evening a few days later, the two of them were sitting across from each other at the otherwise empty dining table.   Lister had coaxed Rimmer in with a glass of wine after the twins had been put to bed. He had something to say and he was hoping that the wine would help matters. If not, the dining room was at least far enough away from the twins bedroom that they wouldn’t hear them arguing. “Come on,” Rimmer said to him, “What’s this about? You’re looking decidedly shifty.”

“Can’t I just enjoy a nice glass of wine and a beautiful view with the man I love?”

“You certainly can, but you’ve got a look about you. I know when you’re up to something.”

“I’m not up to anything.”

“But…?”

“But…I do have something to tell you.”

“Here we go.”

                Lister sipped his wine and sat back in his chair. “I had an email from my bike club this morning. There’s going to be a big off-road rally over on Callisto next month. The track looks amazing. It’s a weekend thing, I’d be gone Friday night to Sunday night. I know what you’re going to say, but I’d really like to go.”

“If you already know what I’m going to say, then why are we talking about it?”

“Because I don’t want to lie to you. I’d rather be open about things, even if it means fighting.”

“Well, I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change my response. I’m sorry, but it’s completely out of the question.”

                Lister raised an eyebrow. “You do realise that I wasn’t actually asking for your permission, right?”

“Good, because you’re not getting it.”

“Can we try this again, where you understand that this is me telling you that I’m going to Callisto and you don’t get a say in the matter?”

“Dave, I can’t agree to this. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine!”

“You can’t even go in circles on a racetrack without crashing, let alone off-roading!”

“Oh, eh, thanks a lot!”

“Well, it’s true. And at least at the track Taylor can keep an eye on things.”

“I’ll bring him with me if it will make you feel better.”

“How is he supposed to do his job when you’re rallying? He can’t keep up with you and even if he could, you’ll be in and out between trees, up and down slopes. There’ll be too many people to keep tabs on you properly. He can’t protect you in those kind of conditions. It’s impossible.”

                Lister rolled his eyes, sipping his wine with a put-upon expression. Well, he hadn’t expected this to be easy. Rimmer noted the stubbornness in his face and persevered, “Besides, what about the kids?”

“What about them?”

“What am I supposed to do with them for a whole weekend?”

“Whatever you like. In fact, I think it would be a good thing for you to spend some time with them. Take them camping or something.”

“Camping?!” Rimmer’s mouth twisted into an expression of comical distaste, “Me? I’m not the Robinson Crusoe type.”

“Glamping then. Or Disneyland, even. Anything.”

“By myself?”

“Mrs Jones will go with you if you ask.”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not? What’s the problem?”

“What if they get ill? Or have bad dreams? You know you’re better at dealing with that kind of stuff than I am.”

“Then maybe you should look on this as an opportunity to get some more practice. The boys are growing up quick, you know. Who’s to say how many opportunities you’ll get to spend this kind of quality time with them again?”

“They’re only three. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Yeah, there’ll be other family holidays, sure, but to focus completely on them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if we have another one…”

                Rimmer narrowed his eyes, “This again?”

“Yes. This.” Lister replied calmly, “Why not?”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”

“No harm in planning ahead. I’ve got two little mini-me’s, don’t you think it would be nice to have a little mini-you?”

“One me is more than enough.”

“Okay, what about a little girl then? Think how happy Mrs Jones would be to have a little girl to fuss over and braid her hair.”

“I don’t know anything about girls.”

“They don’t make you take a test before you’re allowed to take them home, you know.”

               Rimmer looked at him with clear concern, “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s a very big decision.”

“Hardly. It’s not exactly a leap into the unknown. We have done this before.”

“I really don’t know.”

“Come on. I know it’ll be different, it always is, but we know the tune now. We can hum along, even if we don’t know all the words.”

“I’m not quite as cavalier as you are when it comes to these things.”

“Who’s being cavalier? I’m just saying we know what we’re doing.”

“Maybe you do. I’m not sure I do.”

“Don’t be like that. You’re doing fine, we’re _both_ doing fine. What’s the big deal? I mean, it’s not like we can’t afford it.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What are you worried about?”

“It’s a big responsibility taking on another child.”

“I know that, but we’re ready for it. Let’s kick things up a notch.”

                   “Is that what this is to you?” Rimmer demanded, “A challenge? Raising kids isn’t like throwing yourself around on that death machine you love so much. It’s not a sport.”

“Death machine?”

“It’s bad enough that you persist with the biking. Now you want another kid to leave traumatised when you die in a heap of tangled metal?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Look, I’ll think about it, alright? Give me some time to mull it over.”

“You’re being stupid. Why are you being such an arse about this?”

“I haven’t said no. I just need some time to think.”

“What is there to think about? We have two beautiful, wonderful children. What could be wrong with having three?”

“I _said_ I need to think.”

                  “Are you really going to spend your whole life being afraid?” Lister asked impatiently.

“I did,” Rimmer responded archly, throwing him a resentful look.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t actually. This isn’t about being afraid, it’s about being sensible. This isn’t the sort of thing you just rush into.”

“This is _all_ about you being afraid,” Lister said stubbornly, “And it’s daft. We changed the world together, you and me. We broke through reality, crossed a border that humanity had never crossed before, and we made it back in one piece. Why is the idea of having three children scarier than that? What is it about that scenario that you think we can’t handle?”

“There are other things to consider...”

“No, there aren’t! That’s just an excuse. I know you’ve got issues, Arn, god-knows I do, but I really thought we were at a point now where you could start coping with them better than this.”

“Well, thank you, darling,” Rimmer said sarcastically, “That makes me feel so much better.”

“Come on,” Lister reached across the table and took his hand, “After everything you’ve done, after everything _we’ve_ done, don’t you think you should at least make a stab at getting over some of your hang-ups?”

“Like what exactly?” Rimmer pulled his hand back, offended.

“Oh, let me see. Maybe like your constant need to keep me and the kids boxed up safely like mint condition collector’s items?”

“I am not going to apologise for wanting to protect my family,” Rimmer snapped.

“From what, Arn? From who? The galaxy isn’t some terrifying snake pit waiting to swallow us up at the slightest opportunity and I don’t want the boys to grow up thinking that way. I don’t want them to be afraid of stepping out into the real world. They have to live their lives, and so do I!”

“That’s fine,” Rimmer responded irritably, “I’m just trying to ensure that you do. You have to understand; you are not just Dave Lister anymore. The boys are not just regular children. We are too rich and too important. And, before you interrupt, that is not me being arrogant or egotistic - it is just a fact. Do you think I got to where I am now without making any enemies? Do you think there aren’t people who would be very willing to hurt either you or the boys just for the sake of making some quick cash? Do you think there aren’t jealous people out there who would like to hurt us just for the hell of it, because we’ve got it all and they’ve got nothing? I don’t need another person in our lives to worry about!”

“So stop worrying!”

“Accidents happen.”

“They happen to everyone. Driving in a limo won’t stop you from being in a car accident. A private jet can still crash. How many times do I have to say these words to you before you understand them? You.Can’t _._ Control _. Everything._ ”

“No. That’s why I control what I can.”

“Yeah,” Lister agreed heavily, “and that includes me and the boys now, doesn’t it?”  

                 “Listen,” Rimmer said irritably, “I know you have this image of yourself as being a regular guy, that you like to think you’re still just that kid from the estate, but you’re not. In your own words, Dave, we are not even the 1%. That makes you a potential target. It means Jim and Bexley are potential targets. We have to be more careful than other people, and that means you can’t take off on your own for a weekend, you can’t wander around your old neighbourhood like nothing has changed. It _has_. You married one of the richest men in the solar system and, like it or not, you cannot have it both ways. You cannot go back to having a normal life.”

                Lister dragged a hand over his face, frustrated. How could he explain this? How could he make Rimmer understand? Yes, he knew the risk was there. He understood and accepted that sometimes security was a necessity for them. He didn’t want to take chances with his safety or the safety of their children any more than Rimmer did. But there had to be a balance.

Lister knew that in some ways he had more freedom than most people would ever have. He could do more or less whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, have whatever he wanted. But for all of that, he was contained. He existed in a wealthy bubble of high towers, chauffeured cars, private jets and armed bodyguards. Rimmer had lived that way for so long that he didn’t notice anymore, like an animal that’s spent so much of its life in captivity that it doesn’t even see the cage bars when it looks out. Lister was not used to being caged; and for all that the view was beautiful from the top, looking at it wasn’t the same as being part of it. It was the difference between gazing out across the sea from the cliffs, and scuba-diving on a coral reef. He thought of that day years ago, looking over Machu Picchu, and how he’d thought he was now living a life without boundaries, but he’d been wrong. The boundaries had just shifted around.

                “I know,” he said as gently as he could, “that what happened to you was awful. But just because you died in a stupid, hideous way, that doesn’t mean it will happen to us too.”

“I intend to see it doesn’t.”

“Are you even listening to me? Is anything I’m saying getting through to you?”

“What do you want me to do, Dave?” Rimmer asked him, “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Lister told him, exhausted, “I don’t want you to say anything.”

“If I say ‘yes’ to the baby, will that help?”            

“No,” Lister told him, “I don’t want you to say ‘yes’ because I want it. I want you to say ‘yes’ because _you_ want it.”

“Then I can only say I’m sorry.”

“Fine.” Lister got up from the table.

“Please don’t be angry.” Rimmer stood up too and walked around to him, but Lister brushed him off.

“I’m not angry. I’m just sad.”

“Because you didn’t get what you wanted for once?” Rimmer was getting angry himself now, and defensive. “How often do I say no to you?”

“I’m sad,” Lister said hotly, “because I feel sorry for you.”

“Sorry? Why?”

“Because I’m starting to realise that you’re never going to get over what your family did to you. Not entirely. No matter what happens in our lives, they are always going to cast a shadow over everything.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. And as long as you keep letting all that fear and bitterness and resentment affect _our_ life together, _our_ family, it will keep being true.”

                “What do you think I should do?” Rimmer asked him, stony-faced, “Just get the lab to erase all memory of my life?”

“You need,” Lister replied firmly, “to start realising that all those terrible things that happened to you don’t matter as much as right now does. You need to accept that your family are just people and not monsters from the abyss. Horrible people, maybe, but that’s all. Horrible, messed-up, miserable people who have just as many issues as you and a lot less of the perks. You need to move on.”

“And how do I do that?”

“I don’t know. Talk to Howard maybe?”

“Howard?”

“You’ve got at least one thing in common. You both hate the rest of your family.”

Rimmer bristled, “Just because my older brother turned on the charm at some academy soiree, don’t start thinking you know him.”

“I’m just saying...”

“What? He’s not such a bad guy? He oohed and aahed over a picture of our kids and that suddenly makes him A-OK in your book?”

“Of course not!”

“My brothers are good at being charming, Dave. They’re good at schmoozing people. That’s how they get ahead. That’s why they’re successful.”

“Yes, and we know how well Howard’s doing for himself, don’t we?”

“All the more reason for him to be cosying up to you, so he can cash in.”

“Forget it,” Lister said irritably, giving up. “Forget I said anything. I should have known better than to bring it up. We don’t talk about this, do we? You don’t even have a brother. None of your family really exist. My mistake.”

“Well, why _did_ you bring it up?” Rimmer demanded, “Why are you suddenly so keen for me to be patching things up with my porn star brother anyway?”

“I only said...”

“What’s the sudden fascination? After all, you’re the one who discovered his true calling, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Was he commanding in person, Dave? Did he offer to teach you a little something about quantum rods?”

                Lister glared at him poisonously, “Can you actually _hear_ yourself right now, man?”

“Do you think he’s good-looking?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You picked that film out.”

“Imagine that. I went for a man who looks like my husband. How shocking.”

“So you _do_ think he’s good-looking?”

“I’m not going to answer that. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

            Wounded and upset, Lister started to walk out but Rimmer grabbed hold of his arm. Lister was shocked. As a hologram, he knew well that Rimmer was a lot stronger than him. It could be useful (and quite exciting) occasionally, but this was the first time Rimmer had ever used that strength against him. He backed Lister up against the dining table and put a hand either side of him, leaning in close.

“Why? Because you’re embarrassed?”

“Because _you_ are being insulting and ridiculous!” Lister responded furiously, also leaning forward so their faces were inches apart. “When I said you were afraid, I didn’t realise how right I was.”

“I’m not afraid of Howard.”

“Yes, you are.” Lister hit back, “You’re _terrified_. You can be as condescending as you like, but I know what this is really about. You’re afraid that despite everything you’ve accomplished, the moment you came face to face with him, you’d be back to being a frightened little boy again. You might be rich, successful, a smegging _hero_ , but deep down in your head he’s always going to be your scary bigger and better older brother. It’s sad.”

Rimmer’s jaw clenched angrily but Lister went on. “What do you think is going to happen if you ask to see him? That he’ll waltz in here, throw me over his shoulder, take me into the playroom and show me the tricks of the trade? The same way he used to take your toys when you were little?”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“And if we’re talking about the playroom, how’s that for Exhibit A in the issues you need to start working on? Is it part of the ‘Arnold Rimmer Is Terrified Of The World’ display? Or is it the ‘Messed-Up Issues My Family Left Me With’ display? It’s getting really hard to keep track, man.”

“ _Enough_ , Dave.”

“Maybe we could have a little therapy session where you actually let me take the lead when we’re screwing for once? I know it’s an alien concept to you, but life as we know it will not _end_ if you let me fuck you!”

             Rimmer didn’t back off, but he turned his face away. “You never know when to stop do you?” he said, his voice quiet and dangerous, “Why do you always have to push?”

“Because you need pushing! That’s why you married me! You told me you wanted someone who would challenge you, someone who wasn’t afraid to tell you the truth. Well, here it is in its plainest form, darling. _You_ _need_ _help_.”

“Maybe,” Rimmer turned back to glare at him, “But quite frankly, if this is your idea of therapy, then I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh yeah? Well, how’s this for therapy? We’ll invite Howard over to play and you can be the one in the handcuffs for once. We’ll chain you up and whip you and you can watch helplessly as your brother fucks me over and over. How does that sound?”

“I said _enough!”_ Rimmer brought his fist down on the table beside Lister with a resounding crash.

There was a groan and a crack, and the huge table collapsed in on itself, the solid wood split cleanly in two. The two empty glasses rolled down into the crater and smashed with a pretty tinkling noise. Lister, who had been leaning on the edge, staggered backwards. Rimmer quickly caught his elbow and steadied him, then let go and took two big steps back. They stared at each other, both shaken.

                “I’m sorry,” Rimmer said immediately, his face purple with ebbing anger and shame. He looked mortified. Lister closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at that face, or at the wreckage behind him. “I’m going out,” he said flatly. He walked past Rimmer, his heart pounding and head buzzing.

“What do you mean? Out where?”

“Out on my bike,” Lister spat. He didn’t need to see Rimmer’s face to know what his reaction would be.

“Dave...”

“I’ll see you later.”

“I love you.”

Lister stopped. The words made the pain of the argument that much more brutal, and made his eyes fill with tears that he quickly blinked away. “I know,” he said quietly, without looking back, “I love you too.” But he still went.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

                Lister took the bike out of town and onto the long ring roads that surrounded the city. He wasn’t going anywhere, it was enough just to be out of the Rimmer Building, on his own, with the wind streaming past. Riding his bike always helped to clear his head. After just a few miles, he began to feel calmer. Gradually, as his anger and frustration eased, he began to feel guilty.

He had gone too far. He’d lost his temper and said things he shouldn’t have and - he was ashamed to admit it - Rimmer was right. He’d been angry because he hadn’t got his own way and that was rare these days. For all his fretting about how their indulgent lifestyle was affecting the twins, he maybe hadn’t thought hard enough about how it was affecting him. For all that he’d tried not to let this life change him, it was maybe time to realise that it had.

They were extremely fortunate to have the two children they’d been blessed with. There were so many people across the galaxy who would never know that joy, who would never have the kind of money required to pay for even one shot at the genetic splicing that had created Jim and Bexley, and here he was throwing a tantrum because he wanted another. And why? For a reason as shallow as wanting a kid with his husband’s eyes.

                He still wanted to go to Callisto. He still wanted more freedom, for both himself and his children. He didn’t think he was wrong about that. While he understood Rimmer’s point of view, he still thought he was being far too over-cautious. And if nothing else, Lister did not want to fall into the habit of allowing Rimmer too much authority over where he went and what he did. Rimmer had control issues; he’d known that from the moment they’d first met and he’d known it when he’d said his wedding vows. It was part of who the man was, and Lister knew it was part and parcel of what he’d signed up for (literally in fact, once upon a time), but he had to draw a line somewhere. If he didn’t, then slowly but surely the dynamic they shared in the playroom would start creeping into other aspects of their relationship. Lister was not prepared to start going down that road. And there was something else bothering him too.

Rimmer’s strength was something he’d taken for granted for years now. He never really thought about it anymore. He’d never had to. When Rimmer had grabbed him just now, he’d been angry more than anything else. But when that fist had slammed down beside him, when he’d heard that crash, felt the shockwave as the table beneath him shuddered and cracked, he’d felt something else. The force of that blow had been staggering and - even though the fright had only lasted for a second - it was the first time Lister had ever been afraid of his husband. And that hurt.

 

When he arrived back at the hub a couple of hours later, Rimmer was sitting on the sofa, obviously waiting for him. The last time Lister had gone out on his bike after an argument, he’d ended the night unconscious in hospital. Rimmer had not forgotten this. The look of relief on his husband’s face when he stepped out of the lift gave Lister another jab of guilt. They looked at each other awkwardly. Rimmer spoke first. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I know,” Lister said quietly, “So am I. I was acting like a spoilt brat. And I went too far.”

“If you really want another...”

“Don’t,” Lister shut him down. “You don’t have to say it. I think we’ve both already said too much for one night. Let’s just leave it alone for now, okay?”

“Okay,” Rimmer acquiesced softly.

“Let’s just go to bed…” Lister’s eyes strayed towards the archway into the dining room. Just at the edge of his field of vision, there was a table leg sticking forlornly into the air. He looked away again quickly. “…and try not to wreck any more furniture while we’re at it.”

 

                Later that week, Lister sat slouched at the long table in the board room of the Rimmer Building for the monthly Directors’ Meeting. Although, strictly speaking, he was only an employee, as Rimmer’s husband he was also the person who would assume control of the company in the event of Rimmer’s projection suffering a temporary or permanent catastrophic failure. Although the chances of such a thing happening were seriously remote, Rimmer expected him to attend the meeting at least twice a year to keep tabs on what was happening. Lister had absolutely no interest in the financial or corporate side of the business and usually spent the three hour meeting fantasising about what they’d get up to in the playroom later, amused by the thought of how shocked the stern, suited stiffs around them would be if they knew the truth about their CEO. Thankfully, this episode of boredom was now drawing to a close.

                “Mr Lister,” Someone speaking his name caught his attention and he glanced away from the clock on the wall. The secretary was scanning the laptop in front of him, “It says here that you’re on leave for the date of the next meeting. Is that correct?” Lister saw Rimmer look up and catch his eye with an accusatory stare. He pretended not to notice. “Yeah,” he said, “That’s right.”

“Going anywhere nice?” One of the others asked politely, clearly disinterested in the answer.

“Callisto,” Lister told him evenly, without looking at Rimmer, “I’m going biking with my club.”

“Oh, yes,” the man remarked, “I’d forgotten you were into all that. Well, take care. It can be a dangerous sport.” Lister smiled tightly. Just what he needed to hear.

“Yeah, thanks.”

                As they filed out of the room, Rimmer fell into step beside him. “I didn’t realise you’d finalised your plans,” he said. His tone was polite but Lister knew him well enough to detect the iciness underneath. “Yes,” he replied, his voice bright but just as icy, “All booked.”

“Well,” Rimmer’s voice became more clipped as their associates drifted out of earshot, “We’ll talk about it tonight.”

“Nothing to discuss,” Lister told him sweetly, “It’s all arranged.”

“Maybe so. But we _are_ going to talk about this.”

“I look forward to it,” Lister flashed him his most charming smile and headed back to his workroom. The smile faded as he walked away.

                Although they’d ostensibly made up, things had been cool between them for a few days now; both of them still smarting with guilt and resentment in equal measure. The morning after their argument, Mrs Jones had asked him if he was feeling okay. When he assured her that yes, he was fine, she’d given him a strange look and said simply ‘Okay then. If you’re sure’. It was only when he got down to his office that he realised she’d taken the collapsed dining table to be the result of overly boisterous sex rather than a row.

It wasn’t like they never fell out, they squabbled fairly frequently, but these were usually brief hot flashes, followed by moody sulking, that inevitably culminated in fiercely intense sex. Sometimes they didn’t bother with the sulking part. But they’d not been intimate since the argument and that was unusual for them.

                The last time they’d had a serious row, Lister had taken revenge by stubbornly refusing to come when Rimmer initiated make-up sex. It sounded strange and self-defeating, but it was actually an incredibly effective way of making Rimmer crazy. For his control-freak husband, making him come, watching him fall apart, was key to his enjoyment of their sex life. They had ended up spending practically a whole 24 hours in the playroom, Lister thinking determinedly about work and football and engines, while an increasingly desperate and frustrated Rimmer subjected him to every erotic weapon at his plentiful disposal (who knew that fucking machines were an actual thing that existed?). It had almost driven Rimmer to the brink of insanity, it had almost outright killed Lister, but when the eventual earth-shattering orgasm had finally been forced out of him hours later, they were both too exhausted to remember what they’d been fighting about. Maybe something along those lines was what they needed to shake this off; although, in his heart, Lister knew that these wounds were deeper and it was going to take more than a fucking machine to smooth this over.

This wasn’t just a disagreement; this was about their life together, their life as a family, and they had to stop pulling in different directions. Something, some _one_ , had to give; but Lister was not willing to be the one to do it. Rimmer had to learn to deal with his anxieties sometime.             

Things had got worse since Wildfire. Before the dimension jump, Rimmer had been well-known in certain circles but only a ‘celebrity’ in the loosest terms. Their marriage had sparked the public’s interest, and the ensuing media circus around both them and Wildfire had fanned the flames into something much bigger and more intense. Since then, Rimmer had been steadily drawing in, spending less and less time outside of the hub, increasing security, becoming more and more protective of Lister and the children, forever strengthening the walls between them and the outside world. It couldn’t go on. However privileged, however wonderful their life was in every other respect, Lister could not tolerate being caged.

               

                Back at his workspace, Lister leaned back in his chair and pulled off his tie, loosening his collar. Usually he’d be in his overalls at work, but Rimmer liked him to look smart for meetings. “How was it?” Martin asked him with a cheeky smile. It was no secret in their department that Lister despised these occasions.

“You’re all fired,” he told her, deadpan. It was a running joke. He’d made it the first time he’d come back from one of the meetings and they’d all stared at him in shock until he’d explained he was kidding.

                He glanced at the clock. Almost five, hardly worth starting any serious work now. Instead he opened up his emails and started to trawl through. From across the room, Walker stuck his head out of the small booth that passed as his office and shouted to him, “Call for you on Line 2, Spanners.”

Lister huffed. Typical. He picked up the phone on his bench, “Hello?”

“David. It’s Howard, here. Howard Rimmer.”

Lister was completely thrown. That was the last thing he’d been expecting. “Oh. Um. Hello,” he said limply.

“I’m sorry to call you like this. I hope you’ll forgive my boldness, but I need to speak to you urgently.”

“About what?”

“It’s complicated. I need to see you.”

“Can’t you just tell me?” Lister asked uncomfortably.

“I really don’t think it’s the kind of thing we should discuss over the phone.”

                Lister shifted in his seat. Where was this going? Why would Howard, whom he’d never even met until recently, possibly need to see him? “Well,” he said awkwardly, “don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come here.”

“I understand. I don’t expect my little brother would be too thrilled to come home and find us having coffee on the couch.”

“No.” _After what went down the other night,_ _Little_ _Brother would flip his shit if he even knew we were having this conversation._

“Meet me in town then. Have dinner with me. There’s a tapas restaurant on Lower Settlement Street. It’s quiet round there. No-one should spot us fraternising.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what this is about?”

“I know how all this seems, David, but please. Just trust me.”

Lister hesitated for a moment more before giving in, out of curiosity as much as anything. “Okay. When?”

“ASAP.” The phone went dead, leaving Lister with a dark sense of unease.

                He called the private line down to the staff room. “Hi,” he said, “It’s Mr Lister. Is Taylor around? I need to go out.”

“Taylor has just gone out to a function with Mr Rimmer. He’ll be back around seven.”

“No good,” Lister said, “I need to go now.” He thought for a moment. He could order a private car but that would take time. It might also mean explaining to Rimmer where he’d been if it came up on their account with the hire company, and he’d rather keep this whole thing quiet than have to lie outright. He could take his bike, but that would still mean going back to the apartment and changing into his leathers first. Of course, he could just go down to the front of the building and grab a taxi. There were always plenty outside the hub. Rimmer wouldn’t like it, but there was nothing about this escapade he was going to like anyway and, in his current mood, Lister couldn’t bring himself to care much. May as well go for broke. “Don’t worry,” he said into the phone, “I’ll make other arrangements.”

 

                As the taxi crawled through the traffic, Lister ran through Howard’s possible motivations for this meeting. The most likely, of course, was money. Maybe he was in some sort of trouble (blackmail was a distinct possibility given the discrepancy between his private life and public persona) or just outright greedy, but Rimmer had probably been right that his attempt to befriend Lister at the academy a few weeks ago had been calculated to grease the wheels. Lister had already decided that if Howard wanted cash he’d just give it to him, on the proviso that he stayed away from them from hereon. He still had his own bank account and although Rimmer had insisted that Lister had access to his practically limitless fortune in case of emergencies, Lister never really took advantage of it. He had a good job, was respected in his field, and had enjoyed an extremely successful career over the last few years. When you added to that his share of the cash they’d both amassed from publicity, Lister was worth a fair amount all on his own these days. He could probably pay off Howard if necessary without Rimmer ever knowing.

                Another less likely but much more unsettling explanation had also occurred to him, but he was hoping that it was just his imagination working overtime. Lister wouldn’t have presumed to put a label to the sexuality of someone he barely knew, but from what he’d seen of Howard’s career as a porn star he thought it was safe to say the man probably wasn’t rigidly heterosexual. From what he knew of the Rimmer family in general, he also thought it was safe to say that the man probably wasn’t above trying to seduce his own brother-in-law, either for the money, the kicks, or just out of some sick sense of competitiveness. The Rimmer brothers had been bitter rivals their entire lives. Lister didn’t think it was overly melodramatic or conceited to suspect that Howard might try to get him into bed for no other reason than to hurt Arnold.

Either way, he was not looking forward to this meal.

 

He asked the taxi driver to drop him in the quieter area around the back of where the restaurant was, not wanting to draw attention to himself if he was recognised on the busy street outside the entrance. He almost made it to the end of the road without seeing anyone, when an attractive dark-haired woman stepped in front of him. “Excuse me,” she touched his arm, “But you’re David Lister, aren’t you?” He looked at her excited smile and, despite his wish not to be spotted, decided to be kind. “Yeah,” he admitted, “Hello.”

“Oh my gosh,” the woman clapped her hands, “I knew it! This is so exciting! I can’t believe I just walked into you on the street.”

“Never know who you’ll bump into,” Lister smiled.

“This is going to sound so silly,” she pushed a lock of hair back from her face self-consciously, “But could I have your autograph?”

                _Fame_ , Lister mused. It was a weird business and not one he’d deliberately chosen, but it looked like he was stuck with it. “Course you can,” he agreed gently. Howard could wait a minute or two more. But as the woman rummaged in her handbag for a pen, someone grabbed him from behind.

                Lister reacted instinctively, driving his elbow back hard into the body behind him and twisting around with a swift uppercut. Pampered celebrity he might be these days, but he’d grown up on some of the meanest streets in the solar system and he knew how to take a swing. The man who’d attacked him staggered backwards and Lister turned to tell the woman to run, but she was already gone. In her place was another guy who shoved Lister hard, knocking him off-balance, and into the grasp of the man he’d just punched, who gripped onto his arms, holding them back. The man who’d pushed him approached, and Lister lashed out with his foot, kicking him hard in the stomach. The man doubled over wheezing, but the one holding on to Lister managed to wrestle him to the ground and knelt on his back, pinning him down as he struggled. Lister felt tape being wrapped tightly around his wrists and all at once he was hit with a dreadful realisation. He wasn’t being mugged. He was being kidnapped.

He opened his mouth to yell for help, but the man he’d kicked was already recovering and he was immediately there, quickly stuffing thick cloth into Lister’s mouth and binding it tightly behind his head, gagging him and smothering his cries. A black hood was pulled over his head and then he was being lifted, half-dragged, half-carried, until he was bundled into the back of a car and someone was shouting “Go! Now!”

                An engine roared, tyres squealed and the car sped away. _This can’t be happening,_ Lister thought, still trembling with shock _._ He lay in the imposed darkness, heart pounding, trying to breathe through the gag silencing him. The whole thing had probably taken less than a minute. This had been planned very carefully. But there was only one person who’d known Lister was going to be in this part of town, at this time, all by himself, wasn’t there?

 

_Howard_.

 


	10. Chapter 10

                It was hard to keep track of time in the darkness, but Lister thought they were in the car for at least twenty minutes to half an hour. He didn’t bother struggling. With no vision and his hands bound there was no point, and pissing off his captors was unlikely to help his situation. When the car finally slowed to a stop and he was hauled out, he listened intently. Almost perfect silence, except for the distant sounds of traffic in the city. They were some way out of town.

                He was marched across tarmac and into a building. The doors clanged shut behind them and the floor beneath his feet was hard and uncarpeted. The place rang with echoes. This was somewhere large and empty. Two more sets of doors banged and eventually Lister was pushed down into a hard metal seat. Tight ropes were knotted around his upper arms just above his elbows, fastening him to the chair and pinching his skin. The hood was pulled off his head and he blinked in the sudden harsh light of a bare bulb.

                He was in some kind of industrial building, an abandoned factory or warehouse. This was a small windowless room, an old office most likely. Rusty filing cabinets lined one wall and a metal desk thick with dust was pushed into the far corner. The two men who’d grabbed him were standing alongside another man with a beard - the driver, Lister guessed - and the woman who’d accosted him. She’d been a decoy then. They really had planned this carefully. No sign of Howard though. Lister wasn’t all that surprised. It was likely the man didn’t want to get his hands dirty by actually involving himself directly with this, even if he’d orchestrated the plan.

                Lister took a few steady breaths and tried to stay calm, but the speed and shock of his abduction had shaken him; and now these people had him very much in their power he had no idea what they were going to do next. Probably they just wanted money, but how they went about demanding it remained to be seen. Years ago, when he and Rimmer had first met, his friends had joked about sending him one of Lister’s fingers in the post. He could only hope and pray that these guys didn’t have the same idea. He was terrified; but despite how horrific this was, a voice inside him piped up with faint comfort.

_At least they went for you_ , the voice said. _Whatever they do to you_ , _however bad this is, at least they went for you and not the boys._ The idea that these bastards could have taken his children, the thought of his babies sitting in this awful room with these unsmiling strangers staring down at them, bound and helpless and afraid, filled Lister with horror so deep it was nauseating.

                “Mister Lister,” the bearded man addressed him without malice, “Nice to meet you. I must admit, you put up more of a fight than we were expecting.”

“Bastard almost broke my jaw,” the man he’d punched growled, rubbing his face resentfully.

“Given the circumstances, I think we’ll let that slide,” the bearded man told him, “But make no mistake, you give us any trouble from this point on and we won’t be so forgiving. Understood? You do what you’re told and things will go a lot smoother for everyone.”

                He walked over and reached inside Lister’s jacket pocket, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts. He retrieved his own phone and copied a number into it, then switched Lister’s phone off completely. Lister cursed silently. He couldn’t call for help anyway, but if Rimmer started wondering where he was then it wouldn’t be the first time he’d tracked Lister’s phone. The man checked his watch. “It’s ten past six,” he announced. “You sit there and settle in. We’re going to wait for seven-thirty and then we’re going to make a short phone call.”

 

                Back at the hub, Rimmer stepped out of the lift into the penthouse with a sense of foreboding. He didn’t want to have another fight but it seemed unavoidable. He didn’t know how he was going to talk Dave out of going on this smegging trip to Callisto, and wasn’t even sure that he could. His husband’s rebellious streak was one of the things Rimmer secretly loved most about him; whenever he saw those brown eyes start to flash, it did things to his groin that shouldn’t be possible for a dead man, but it was also one of the most frustrating things about him. Rimmer didn’t want to stop him from doing what he loved, but the prospect of Dave being so far away with no protection, spending all weekend on that damn bike terrified him. The few hours he spent at the track were nerve-wracking enough and the longer he spent on his bike, the more likely he was to have an accident - and at a big rally like that there were bound to be accidents. Even if he didn’t spill off his bike, he could still be hit or knocked down by someone else. There were too many risks, why couldn’t he see that?

                He found Mrs Jones in the kitchen cooking dinner for Jim and Bexley. “Hello everyone,” he said, slightly surprised, “Dinner’s a bit late tonight, isn’t it?”

“I know,” Mrs Jones replied, also seeming surprised, “I was just waiting for you and David to come home so you could eat with the boys.”

“Well, I’m here now.”

“What about David?”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t he with you?”

“No. He’s not here?”

“I’ve been here since picking the boys up at three-thirty and I’ve not seen him.”

                Rimmer pulled out his phone, immediately anxious but also annoyed. Maybe Dave was also avoiding the impending argument, maybe he was stubbornly making a point, but either way he should have called. He rang Lister’s phone. It went straight to voicemail. He saw Mrs Jones looking at him with just a trace of worry. “I’m sure he’s just gone out with some friends after work,” she said soothingly, “He had no other appointments today, where else would he be?”

“That’s not the point. He’s not supposed to just take off without telling anyone,” Rimmer said grumpily. He rang again. Straight to voicemail.

“Go and get changed,” Mrs Jones told him encouragingly. “I’m sure he’ll be back any moment.”

“He’d better be,” Rimmer growled, stalking out, “And when he gets here, he’s getting what for.” As he walked to their bedroom he looked down at his phone again fretfully. _Damn you, Dave. Why are you doing this? Don’t you know how much you’re scaring me?_ Well, this was the last straw. David Lister was not going to Callisto. No way. Over Rimmer’s, quite literally, dead body.

 

                The dark-haired woman looked at her watch. “It’s time,” she said simply. The bearded man nodded and stood up. He pulled out his phone and dialled, as Lister watched nervously.   “Hello,” he said after a short pause, “Is this Arnold Rimmer?”

Lister’s stomach twisted. He’d guessed this was coming, but that didn’t make it any better. He couldn’t hear the response but could imagine Rimmer asking who this was, how this stranger had gotten his private phone number. The idea that Arnold was just there on the other end of the line, so near and yet so far, was torturous. The man spoke into the phone again, “I’ll get straight to the point. We have something of yours you may want returned.” The man pulled the gag from Lister’s mouth and held the phone up to his ear. “Say hello,” he ordered.

Lister cringed, sickened. He wanted to hear Rimmer’s voice so badly, but he knew the devastation his next words would cause. He was about to make his husband’s worst nightmare come true. _You bastards_ , he thought with helpless rage, _I hate you for making me do this._

“Babe,” he whispered softly, trying to sound as calm as he could, “It’s me. Please don’t freak out.”

“Dave?” The utter horror in Rimmer’s voice was clear, even over the phone, “Oh, God. Oh, God, _no_.” Lister closed his eyes, holding back tears, “I’m okay,” he said as reassuringly as possible. _Don’t let your voice shake. Don’t let him know how frightened you are. Do not make this any worse._ “Really, I’m okay. Just do what they say and everything will be fine.”

The man took the phone away again before he could say anything else. “I would listen to your wife if I were you,” he warned Rimmer snidely, giving Lister a condescending nod of approval. This time, even from a distance, Lister could hear the string of furious expletives Rimmer launched in response. “Let’s cut to the chase. One hundred and fifty million, in cash, and you can have him back.”

Lister let out his breath, relieved to an extent. Money. That was all they wanted. A lot of money perhaps, but if there was one thing his husband had in spades, it was cash. He just prayed that Rimmer’s pride wouldn’t get in the way. _Don’t argue with them, Arn. Don’t turn this into a battle. Just give them what they want. Just get me out of here._

“You talk to the police, or try and do anything clever, and you’ll still get him back,” the man warned, “But it’ll be in pieces. And you’ll have to dredge the river for the missing bits. You’ve got twenty-four hours to round up the cash. I’ll call you at 4pm tomorrow with instructions.” He hung up the phone. Lister glared up at him resentfully and the man smiled back, pleased. “Well done. You played your part. Now you get to have a little sleep-over with us tonight and in less than twenty-four hours you’ll be back in your cushy life with your hubby. Everybody wins.”

Lister wanted to scream and swear and rant at this asshole, who’d just made him hurt the person he loved so deeply, but he didn’t dare. If he was still stuck with this gang overnight, he wanted it to be as painless as possible. He didn’t think they’d do him serious damage, not if they wanted that ransom, but it still didn’t seem wise to push his luck. He closed his eyes and tried to send a telepathic message to Rimmer. _I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so, sorry._

Mrs Jones had given up waiting and was watching the twins eat their supper when she heard a crash. Jim and Bexley looked up from their plates anxiously and she quickly forced a smile, “Clear your plates, boys. I’ll go see what’s going on.”

“Did papa drop something?” Jim asked uncertainly. Another smash made all three of them flinch and Mrs Jones headed purposefully to the door. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said lightly, “Finish your tea. I’ll be back in a moment once I check your Papa doesn’t need me.”

              As soon as she was out of sight of the children, she started to run. She wasn’t sure what could possibly be going on, surely no-one could have broken in up here, but the sounds coming from behind the office door sounded like a fight. Henrietta Jones was not a large or strong woman, but nor was she easily frightened. If there was trouble, she would give it trouble. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect this household. She flung open the door, unsure what to expect, but braced for the worst.

The desk was overturned. There were fragments of an expensive vase scattered across the floor. There was also a fist-sized hole in one wall, and it wasn’t a thin partition wall either. Plaster and brick dust floated in the air. Rimmer was pacing the room, his head cradled in his hands. “What on IO is going on?” she asked, looking around in horror at the carnage, “The boys are frightened!” When Rimmer looked up and she saw his face, she was frightened too.

“Dave,” he said simply, his voice trembling.

Mrs Jones gripped the doorframe, dread seizing her heart. She’d known it was strange that he wasn’t home at this time. She’d sensed Rimmer’s anxiety as soon as he’d come in and found Dave wasn’t here and his phone was switched off. The pair of them had spent the past half hour trying to pretend they weren’t concerned, for the boys’ sake as much as their own. Now there was no point in pretence. “What’s happened?” she demanded fearfully.

“He’s been taken,” Rimmer said, still pacing, “I just got a phone call. Ransom demand. One hundred and fifty mill by tomorrow or they kill him.”

“How?” she asked, horrified, “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know!” Rimmer’s hands were clenching and unclenching repeatedly, “What do I do?”

“Call the police!”

“I can’t! They’ll probably be watching the place. Even if they’re not, if people see police cars and choppers descending on this building it’ll be all over the news before you can blink. I can’t risk it!”

“So give them the money. Give them what they want. Just get David back safe.”

“And let them get away with this???”

“For God’s sake, Arnold! They don’t matter! The money doesn’t matter! David matters! Just do whatever you have to!”

                   Rimmer stopped pacing. He stared out of the window at the panorama of the city, breathing deeply. It was dusk now and the horizon was blood-red. Somewhere out there, the love of his life was a frightened prisoner. Whatever happened, Rimmer vowed the bastards were going to pay for that. But stronger than his pulsing rage was a deep endless terror. Rimmer was literally paralysed with fear. His husband’s life hung in the balance and if he made the wrong decision now, the consequences were too terrible to contemplate.

“Go to the boys,” he told Mrs Jones, “Tell them everything is fine. Act like everything is normal. Get them ready for bed. Tell them I’m working late and their daddy has gone away but he’ll be home in time to tuck them in tomorrow.”

“What are you going to do?”

Rimmer’s fingers curled back into fists. “Like you said,” he told her, “Whatever I have to.”

He spun round, marched to the overturned desk and scooped up the phone from where it lay tumbled on the floor. “Tell Taylor to drop whatever he’s doing and come to my office straight away.” He paused for a second, then added, “And someone get hold of Aleksander Petrovitch too. I don’t care if he’s in the building or if he’s on a skycruise around the Andromeda system, just get him to my office as soon as humanly possible. In fact, get him here sooner.” He slammed the phone down and ran his hands back through his hair. “Oh, Dave,” he whispered out loud, his eyes filling with tears, “You stupid stubborn idiot. Why wouldn’t you listen to me?”

 

              Back inside the warehouse, Lister heard doors banging in the distance and looked up sharply. “Relax,” Beardy told him wryly, “That’s not the cavalry coming to rescue you. The boss is here.” Lister narrowed his eyes. So Howard had decided to turn up after all, the traitorous slimeball. To his surprise, when the door to the room opened, not one but two people walked in. Lister’s eyes widened. “You?!” he said, shocked.

 

              Petrovitch was tracked down at his apartment across town, he still lived in the same block where Lister had briefly rented. Within half an hour of Rimmer putting the phone down, both he and Taylor were seated in Rimmer’s formal office on the floor below the penthouse. Rimmer didn’t want the children to overhear the conversation. He didn’t want them to know anything about this if he could help it.

“I’m sorry for the abrupt nature of my summons,” Rimmer told Petrovitch as he sat down, “But this is an emergency. I need your help.”

“Of course,” Petrovitch said, a faint frown of concern creasing his forehead, “I am pleased to help if I can. What is the emergency?”

“David’s been kidnapped. I received a ransom call at seven-thirty this evening.” Even saying the words made Rimmer feel sick. He remembered the sound of Dave’s voice on the other end of the line and fought down the strong urge to punch another hole in the wall.

“Oh no!” Petrovitch’s hands flew to his face, “This is dreadful news. What do they want?”

“Just money.”

“Have they hurt him?”

“Not yet. But they say they’ll kill him if they don’t get what they want, or if I involve the police.”

“What can we do?”

“Look, it’s hard for me to say this,” Rimmer clasped his hands in front of him, “Normally I’m a man who makes his own decisions and quite frankly, I’m used to giving orders, not asking for help. But that’s exactly what I’m doing. Because I don’t know. Taylor is my head of security and you’re Dave’s friend and probably the smartest person I know. So tell me. What do I do?”

“I hate to say this, Sir,” Taylor spoke up quietly, “But like it or not, I think we need to inform the authorities.”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“No, he is right,” Petrovitch agreed, “The police must be told. They must have protocols in place for this kind of thing.”

“If the kidnappers get any inkling that we’ve gone to the law…”

“If they are watching then they will be watching _you_ ,” Petrovitch interrupted firmly, “They will be watching this building. If I bring the police to my apartment they will likely never know. We can video conference with you here so you are included.”

“That’s a good idea,” Taylor agreed, “We’ll play it safe, but the chances are these people have no intention of hurting David, whether they get the money or not. The repercussions would be too great. He’s worth more to them alive. They just want the cash as quickly and easily as possible, so they’re trying to frighten you.”

“Well, it worked. You didn’t hear his voice.”

“They let you speak to him?”

“Just for a moment. But it was enough.”

“Was he okay?”                                             

“He sounded calm. But he was scared, I could tell.”

“But not distraught? He didn’t sound like he’d been hurt?”

“No,” Rimmer admitted.

“Then they’re bluffing,” Taylor said confidently. “If they were serious about hurting him then they would have proved it there and then. They would have made him scream, cry, beg for mercy, anything they thought would panic you into doing what they want.”

“They still might. Especially if they don’t think I’m playing ball.”

“With any luck, they won’t know that until it’s too late.”

               Petrovitch stood up. “I will go now. I will call the police and explain what is happening. We will catch these people.”

“If you’re wrong…”

“I think the best way to get David back safely is to work with those who have experience of these things. If I thought otherwise I would not do it. He is my dear friend and I would not put his life at risk any more than you would.”

“I know he’s your friend,” Rimmer replied fiercely “but _you_ don’t love him.”

“Then you misunderstand love, Mr Rimmer,” Petrovitch replied firmly.

“If I might add, Sir,” Taylor butted in gently, “I think I know better than most what David means to you. I don’t think there’s anyone in this room or this universe who could ever love him more; but make no mistake, we all want the same thing and that’s to bring him home safe. I agree with Mr Petrovitch that the best way to do that is with police backup.”

                 The phone rang on Rimmer’s desk and they all stared at it. “They said they wouldn’t call back until tomorrow,” Rimmer said anxiously.

“It may be nothing,” Taylor said steadily, drawing out his own phone, ready to record the conversation, “Just answer it as normal. And above all, whatever happens, stay calm.”

“Calm. Right.” Rimmer snatched up the receiver, “What?” he barked.

“Mr Rimmer,” the receptionist on the other end spoke gingerly, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

“Tell him I’m not available. I’m not to be disturbed until further notice, do you understand?”

“He’s...very insistent, Sir.”

“Then get security to deal with him.”

“He says it’s very urgent, Sir. He’s saying...” Rimmer heard faint but emphatic sounds of someone talking excitedly at the other end of the line, “...it’s about your husband. And,” she paused uncertainly, “…he says he’s your brother, Sir.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

                   Howard Rimmer did not so much walk into the office as fly. The moment he stepped through the double doors, Rimmer grabbed his brother by the lapels, lifted him off his feet and slammed him against the wall, leaning into his face. “Where is he?!” he snarled. Howard appeared remarkably unsurprised by the manner of this greeting but, at Rimmer’s words, his expression changed to one of dismay. “What? What’s happened?”

“Don’t play games with me, Howie. I swear I will kill you. You came here to talk about my husband, so talk. Now _where is he?_ ”

“Dammit all,” Howard screwed his eyes shut, “I’m too late. Gods _dammit_.”

“What do you mean? Too late for what?”

“I came here to warn you.”

“Warn me about what? Are you threatening me?”

“No, you blathering fool. I’m trying to help.”

“By kidnapping my husband?!”

“Will you put me down? I haven’t kidnapped David. This is nothing to do with me. It’s John. Do you hear me? _It’s John!_ ”

 

 

                              “Hiya, Dave,” Sam Murray smiled smugly, leaning casually against the wall. “Long time, no see. I’d give you a hug but it looks like you’re a little tied up right now.”

“It’s nice to see you’re putting your degree to such good use,” Lister said, disgusted. After leaving Saturn Tech, he and Murray had attended the academy together for two years. They’d taken different courses and had different social circles but they had inevitably seen each other around, and had always maintained a cool distance.

“The space corps was fun, but I was never going to make twenty-five million overnight, even as an officer.”

“So kidnapping and blackmail was the obvious next step for your career.”

“I never found a nice rich guy to set me up like you did.”

“Spin on it!” Lister spat.

“Look at you in your nice suit and crisp white shirt. Whatever happened to the dirty leathers and biker boots, huh? Not appropriate now that you’ve gone up in the world?”

“If I’ve gone up then you’ve gone way _way_ down. And I didn’t think you could sink much lower.”

“These guys were sniffing around online for anyone who might want to screw over Arnold Rimmer and make a bit of cash at the same time. It sounded good to me.”

“Not that you’re one to hold a grudge or anything.”

“He assaulted me, if you remember.”

“I remember that _you_ were in the process of assaulting _me_ when he picked you up and tossed you away like a paper aeroplane.”

“If he wasn’t such a big shot he’d have been looking at formal charges. But you can cover up anything you want when you’re a billionaire, right?”

“Oh, please. The only injury you sustained was to your stupid ego!”

                    “If you ladies are quite finished,” the second man interjected, obviously amused, “I think I should introduce myself.”

“I don’t care who you are,” Lister told him fiercely, “I just want to go home.”

“All in good time, Mister Lister. All in good time. Aren’t you even a bit curious? Don’t I look familiar to you?”

“No,” Lister hesitated, “Should you? Do we know each other?”

“Regrettably not. Although we are, technically, family,” the man made the word ‘family’ sound distasteful. “I’m your brother-in-law, John Rimmer.”

                Lister blinked. That _was_ a surprise. John was a good deal older than Arnold, so the likeness wasn’t immediately obvious. He had probably been a handsome man in his youth, with his cold blue eyes and strong features, but his hair was greying at the temples now, and his jaw starting to sag.

“I knew I wasn’t exactly on the family Christmas card list,” Lister said, “But this is going a bit far, don’t you think?”

“Oh, this isn’t personal,” John said dismissively, “I’ve got very little interest in where my runt of a younger brother points his joystick. True, with the resources available to him I would have thought he could have done better than you, but he never was exactly a winner.”

Lister bristled angrily, “Your ‘runt’ of a little brother is twice the man you’ll ever be. That’s why he’s the one with the money that you’re scrounging using threats and blackmail.”

“I don’t consider it scrounging. Just fairer re-distribution. He’s been very lucky, I’ll grant you, but if there’s one thing I would have thought he’d learned growing up, it’s that you need to keep a tight grip on what’s yours. If you don’t, then someone stronger will always find a way to take it.”

“You are _not_ stronger than him.”

“I took you.”

“You didn’t take me. You sent goons to snatch me off the street.”

“Watch it,” the man he’d kicked earlier remarked darkly. Lister ignored him.

“You even used Howard to do the tricky part of gaining my trust. You didn’t do any of this yourself.”

“Howard?”

“Yes, and where is he? Hiding until all this blows over and he’s got the cash in hand?”

“I don’t know what Howard’s been up to,” John raised an eyebrow, “But it’s nothing to do with me. Although it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a scheme of his own up his sleeve. After all, he is a Rimmer. Just not as good as me.”

Lister was puzzled. “If Howard wasn’t in on this, then how did you know where to find me?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you for three months,” Murray cut in, “Getting an idea of your movements, your routine. It’s not been easy either. You don’t get out much without a babysitter.” Lister gritted his teeth. After his argument with Rimmer, it was all the more galling that his husband’s obsession with the constant security he’d found so stifling had proved to be justified after all. “That’s why this lot took me on,” Murray went on proudly, “They thought it would be useful to have somebody you knew on the team, who could reasonably show up in places you’d be and keep track of you without attracting too much suspicion if you noticed me. I was outside the Rimmer Building when you came down and got in the cab this afternoon. We’ve had the car on standby at a garage down the street from your place for weeks. As soon as I saw you get in, I called the guys and gave them the reg of the car you were in and what direction it was heading. All they had to do then was follow you to see if there was an opportunity. Today there was.”

                Lister thought back. He hadn’t noticed Murray around, but it was true that usually whenever he left home he was escorted, so it wasn’t that surprising. And he _had_ seen him that day at the academy when he’d first met Howard, lurking in one corner with that snide smile, but he’d ignored him. As he’d said himself, given their shared education background and similar field of work, it wouldn’t have been too suspicious if they’d run into each other occasionally. But if Howard really didn’t have anything to do with this then why had he wanted to see him? And more importantly, might he have already raised the alarm about his disappearance? It was more likely he’d assumed that Lister had just changed his mind about coming, but if he had been concerned enough to do something, he might be able to give the police an idea of where Lister had been snatched from. If they checked the CCTV around the restaurant they might even have got footage of the abduction and the car. It was a possibility.

John turned to the bearded man, “How did Arnold take the news?”

“As you’d expect. But I don’t think he’ll give us any trouble.”

“I don’t imagine he will. We’ve just come from the tower and we couldn’t see any signs of a police presence. Whatever the public has been led to believe, my brother has always been something of a coward. He won’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“Don’t you _dare_ call him a coward,” Lister snarled, “My husband is a hero and you aren’t fit to look him in the eye.”

“Well,” John retorted, “so long as your hero turns up to rescue you with a suitcase full of cash tomorrow, I couldn’t really care less.”

The bearded man stood up and stretched, “Enough chitter-chatter. We’ve all had enough excitement for one day and tomorrow’s not going to be a lot easier. I say we grab some food and then hit the hay. Who’s gonna watch him?”

“Me,” Murray said immediately. Lister turned and glared at him,

“No way!”

“Hey, it’ll be fun. Two college buddies catching up. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

John shook his head, clearly disinterested. “Whatever. But listen up,” He took hold of Murray’s arm before leaving. “I want my money. That means he’s got to be in one piece when I get up tomorrow. If he’s not, you’ll answer to me. And I am not a man you want to trifle with. Clear?”

“Absolutely,” Murray said sweetly.

“Besides,” John smiled charmingly at Lister, “He’s my brother-in-law. Be nice.” The four men left, presumably to find dinner. Lister heard doors banging in the distance as they went away, leaving him alone with Murray and the strange, quiet woman.

 

                “What are you talking about?” Rimmer demanded, still holding his older brother against the wall, “Tell me everything you know. Right now.”

“We were at Mother’s last weekend. All three of us. Sunday lunch, you know. I was upstairs in the bathroom and I heard John on the phone to someone in his old room. From what I heard it was pretty clear that he was up to no good, so of course I listened in. I didn’t get all the details but I heard enough to gather he was planning to blackmail you. I confronted him when I came out, asked him what exactly he was up to but he wasn’t having it. Told me that if I wanted to keep some secrets of my own that I should stay out of it.”

“Yes, well, your secrets aren’t as secret as they should be,” Rimmer told him sharply, “Don’t think I don’t know the truth about you.” He gave an awkward glance backwards at Taylor and Petrovitch, who were still stood behind him watching this.

“It never occurred to me for a moment that you didn’t,” Howard replied nonchalantly, “God knows if I was in your shoes I’d be watching the rest of us like hawks too.” Rimmer decided not to share how he’d come by the information.

“Keep talking.”

“I couldn’t understand why John would try butting heads with you like this, certainly not with a strategy as risky as blackmail. It’s not like he was doing badly for himself and he had an awful lot to lose if it went wrong. I’ve still got some buddies in the Corps so I did some digging. Turns out our big brother was dishonourably discharged just a few months ago. There was some kind of scandal, some unpleasantness involving a young female officer. It was all kept pretty hush-hush, he’s been an important player up there for too many years and he’s got friends in some pretty high places, but at the end of the day he’s still been chucked. I’m surprised with your connections you didn’t already know.”

“I try where possible to pretend that you’re all dead,” Rimmer told him stonily. Howard didn’t seem greatly offended. “Anyway, I weighed it up and decided I ought to at least warn you. I knew you wouldn’t speak to me, so this afternoon I called David at work and asked him to meet me at a restaurant in town. He never showed up. That’s when I started to worry and headed over here. I was hoping that maybe he’d spoken to you first and you’d stopped him from coming, but it seems I was wrong.”

“How do I know you’re not in on all this? Maybe your job was to lure him out.”

“For heaven’s sake, man! Why would I come here if that was true?”

“Why not just call the police when you knew what John was planning otherwise?”

“What?” Howard sneered, “And bring down shame on the family? You know that’s not how we operate on IO, and certainly not in the Rimmer clan. Besides, I didn’t think it was anything you couldn’t handle. Hell, I assumed he was just going to threaten to splash some gory pictures or stories from back when we were kids about. I never thought he’d go as far as kidnapping!”

                With a certain degree of reluctance, Rimmer finally put Howard down. Once his feet were back on the floor, he brushed himself down conscientiously and smiled charmingly. Rimmer turned to Petrovitch. “Go,” he said, “Call the police. At least we know who’s behind this now.” He scribbled a number on a scrap of paper. “Here’s the extension for my videophone,” he gestured to the screen on the wall opposite the desk, “Patch me in as soon as the police get there.”

“I will. Try not to worry. We are going to bring David home safe, you will see.” He glanced awkwardly at Howard, “It was…er…nice to meet you?” he ventured politely.

“Likewise,” Howard raised a hand in salute.

                Rimmer waited until Petrovitch was gone and then turned back to his brother, “So tell me,” he said bitterly, “What made you decide to do the honourable thing for the first time in your life?”

“What do you think? I’m not a complete dimwit. I didn’t ask to get dragged into this, but if I’ve got to be stuck between you and John then I know which side I’m backing. Team Billionaire all the way, dear boy. Besides,” Howard said grudgingly, “For all that you’re an insufferable twat, I have a certain amount of respect for you.”

“For my money, you mean, you despicable worm.”

“Of course. But I respect how you made that money. You’ve lived your own life, in your own way.   You married David, and you must have known how _that_ would go down at home. You walked away and refused to play the game. I admire that.”

“Well,” Rimmer muttered gruffly, “You didn’t exactly follow the path Mother and Father laid out for us either, did you? _Captain?_ ”

Howard grinned rakishly, “I suppose not. But I pretend to. After all, Mummy’s got to snuff it at some point and the family silver has to go somewhere. I still play the game, Arnie. I just bend the rules a little.”

“I’d say you’ve bent the rules quite substantially, Howard.”

“You may not approve, but I enjoy my job. And I’ve made quite a bit of money doing it.”

“And I suppose that’s all that matters. You know the tabloids would have a field day if they found out about your line of work.”

“They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

“You could at least use a stage name.”

“I kind of do. At least,” he winked, “Everyone _thinks_ it’s a stage name.”

                Rimmer walked away despairingly, massaging his temples. He had a feeling this was going to be the longest night of his death.

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

                   “So,” Lister asked coldly, “is this your girlfriend?”

“No,” Murray replied, “She’s just another innocent victim like me, who wants to see Arnold Rimmer get what’s coming to him.”

“Not just Arnold Rimmer,” she said quietly. Lister looked up at her, confused.

“See,” Murray spun a chair round and sat down beside Lister, “Now that we’re alone, we can talk properly. We can be nice and open and honest.”

“About what?” Lister asked warily.

“Norah here has shared some interesting little tidbits with me. She knows things. Specifically, she knows things about your husband. And – by extension – about you. Some pretty shocking things, I might add.” Lister eyed him suspiciously, wondering where this was going. His throat knotted anxiously as he realised that he and Arnold had only one secret worth knowing. _Oh, smeg. They can’t know. They can’t possibly. There’s no way…_

“Like, for example, how she once spent eighteen months as Arnold Rimmer’s personal sex slave,” Murray said gleefully, and Lister felt his insides shrivel as his worst fears were confirmed. “Like the fact that your precious ‘hero’ is a totally psycho S&M freak,” Murray went on, “And you two media darlings, with your perfect life and perfect marriage and perfect kids, have a fucking _sex_ _dungeon_ in your fancy penthouse apartment. They left _that_ part out of the movie, didn’t they?”

Lister stared at the wall, his heart racing. He could feel a deep blush of humiliation staining his skin, could feel the heat of shame rising off him like a sun shimmer. “Any of this sound familiar?” Murray needled softly, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“So what if it is?” Lister replied fiercely, “A married couple having consensual sex is not exactly news worthy.”

“Maybe I should ring a few news networks and let them decide.”

“Good. Can you tell them I’m here while you’re at it?”

“Don’t try and be clever.”

“Why am I even here? You’ve got your leverage, what do you need me for?”

“Johnny Boy doesn’t know what we know. That’s our little secret. The plan was always to get you before Norah and I ever got involved. I consider this more like insurance, in case things go wrong. And why would I want to interfere? I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again. I’ve been looking forward to it _greatly_.”

                     He stood up and started to circle Lister, “This must be pretty exciting for you, right? The whole ‘kidnapping’ thing. Tied up. Helpless. This must be really doing it for you, huh?”

“Yeah, right. I’m having a great time, man.” Lister replied bitterly.

“I bet you have fantasies like this, don’t you? Do you act them out with your husband? Do you roleplay this stuff in your dirty little room together?” Lister could hear a worrying thrum of excitement creeping into Murray’s voice.

“You seem to be enjoying this more than me,” he told him nervously.

“Hey, I’m just playing along,” Murray told him. Lister felt a hand on the side of his neck, a thumb stroking his jaw, “I’m just trying to make you feel at home.”

The hand slid underneath his shirt collar, caressing the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Lister forced himself to take a deep breath. “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” he growled.

“Make me.”

“You are a total creep.”

“And what are you?” Murray countered, “Norah tells me that she had to do all kinds of crazy shit for your husband; and it clearly wasn’t enough because he still dumped her. Which makes me think you must be willing to do some _seriously_ fucked up stuff for him to have tied the knot with you so fast. So spill the beans, Dave.” Murray’s lips brushed his ear and Lister recoiled, “Why was Rimmer so keen to snap you up? Just what exactly did you have to do to get that ring on your finger?”

“Go to hell, you slimy son of a bitch,” Lister seethed.

“You know what really amuses me? You always acted so pure, so innocent. So _shy_. And then it turns out the whole time, you were into _this_.”

             Lister felt the ropes binding him to the chair loosen and next thing he knew he was tipped forward onto the floor. His wrists still taped behind him, he hit the ground painfully with his shoulder and rolled onto his back, grimacing. Murray dropped on top of him and straddled his lap. Lister winced under the weight of him as he leant down into his face. “Is this what you wanted? For me to tie you up like this and make you do it? Is that what you were hoping for?”

“Get the smeg away from me.”  

Murray gripped Lister’s jaw as he tried to squirm away and forced his head back, pressing their lips together. Lister bit him and he laughed. “Yeah, you like it rough, don’t you?”

“I am warning you…” Lister told him, his voice low and furious.

“What? What are you going to do? Your hubby’s not going to show up this time. No-one is coming to rescue you.” Still holding Lister’s head back against the ground, he bent down and placed three small wet kisses down his exposed throat. Lister screwed his eyes shut at the feel of those lips on his skin. He yanked instinctively at the tape binding his wrists and felt it dig in painfully. “You’re not going anywhere,” Murray whispered, “There’s no getting away.” He kissed Lister again, forcing his tongue into his mouth. Lister jerked his head away, fuming with anger and disgust.

“You make me sick.”

“I’ll make you more than that,” Murray told him, bending down to suck on the side of his neck. His hips thrust forward and Lister felt the stiff heat of an erection jab at his stomach. “Stop it,” Lister heard himself saying, “Just stop.”

“You know,” Murray murmured into his ear, “Don’t get me wrong. I want the money. But I would have done it anyway. I would have done it for free, just for this.” He ran his tongue up the side of Lister’s face and started to unbutton his shirt.

 _Oh god. Oh god help me please._ “Listen to me,” Lister said quietly, trying to keep his voice steady, “Listen to me and think really hard about what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I am. I’ve been thinking about it for a very long time.”

“You know who I am. You know who my husband is. Tonight you can do whatever you want, but tomorrow you’ve got to hand me back to him and when he finds out…”

“It’ll already be too late,” Murray said with a smile, spreading open Lister’s shirt.

“You won’t get away with this! For smeg’s sake, Sam, trust me; you might be able to hide from the law but twenty-five million won’t be enough to hide you from Arnold Rimmer.”

“Arnold Rimmer is never going to know.” Norah spoke up suddenly, “Because you’re never going to get a chance to tell him.”

            Lister turned to her in surprise. He’d almost forgotten she was there. “You’re never going home to him,” she said, her voice cold and matter-of-fact, “Once we’ve got the money, I don’t care what the others want to do. I’ll put a bullet in you myself. You’re not leaving this place alive. I intend to make sure of it.”

The words sent a chill through Lister. There was no doubting that this woman meant what she said. But why would she want him dead? Clearly feeling that she was spoiling the mood, Murray glanced back over his shoulder. “Why don’t you give us some privacy, Norah?”

“I want to watch,” she said. Lister stared at her, appalled. She stared back at him, her eyes full of hate.

“What did I ever do to you?” he asked, stunned.

“You stole him from me,” she told him simply.

“What?”

“I gave him everything,” she insisted, “I did whatever he wanted, anything and everything he asked of me. And he just threw me aside. Told me that he didn’t love me, that he wasn’t capable of loving anyone, that there was nothing more we could give each other. And I tried to accept that. I did what I’d always done and bowed to his wishes. And then, not even six months later, I wake up one morning and what do I see? Everywhere I look, the TV, the papers, the magazines, there’s only one story, one headline, one major scoop. Arnold Rimmer is in love. Arnold Rimmer is engaged. To you.”

“Oh,” Lister said softly.

                Suddenly this woman’s rage made sense. Despite everything that was happening here, Lister felt a stirring of pity. He understood her pain. He knew something about what it meant to be a sub although, by his own admission, he’d never really had the right stuff for the role. It demanded so much from you, physically, emotionally and psychologically. He’d not even managed three months, and even in the short time that he and Rimmer had been together that way he had realised that the cost to his mental health when Rimmer’s (at that time seemingly inevitable) rejection finally came would be catastrophic. How many times had the thought of what would happen, when everything he was was no longer enough, filled him with fear and dread? He had known even then that he couldn’t do it, couldn’t handle giving himself so completely to someone, knowing that he would be dropped like an old wrapper once they were through with him. He’d chosen to walk away before that happened, and even that had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. He tried to imagine what it would have done to him to go through what this woman had. To have spent eighteen months in that heady and intense state of devotion, in that magical world of wealth and glamour, only to lose everything; and then watch helplessly as someone else took it all - and more - with so little effort.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered to her.

“How did you do it?” she asked tearfully, “How did you make him fall in love with you?”

“Honestly?” Lister replied, trying to fight back tears of his own, “I still don’t know.”

“It’s not fair. It should have been me. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!”

“It won’t change anything,” Lister told her, “Killing me won’t mean he comes back to you.”

“I don’t want him back,” she said, “I want revenge.”

“You can have it,” Murray told her dismissively. He turned back to Lister and stared down at him hungrily, “We both can. Starting right now…”

             His hands moved down Lister’s bare chest and stomach, and began to work on undoing his belt. The look in those eyes made Lister’s heart plummet as he realised that there was absolutely nothing he could do or say to stop this from happening. _Fuck it. I will not beg. **I will not beg.**_

            He fixed his eyes on the dirty cobwebbed ceiling above him, swallowed hard and, when he spoke, his voice was terrifyingly calm and sure. “I swear to God, Sam Murray, you will pay for this,” he said through gritted teeth. “I swear it with my life.”

 

 

                The vid screen in Rimmer’s office blinked on and he immediately jumped to his feet, accepting the incoming call. He was met with the image of Petrovitch sitting on his couch with a woman in police uniform. More officers were gathered around the table behind them. “Mr Rimmer,” she said sympathetically, “I’m Inspector Roberts. I’m sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances.”

“Not as sorry as I am,” Rimmer told her, “What’s happening?”

“Right now we’re still gathering information. Mr Petrovitch has told us as much as he can, but any other info you have would be helpful.”

“Like what?”

“What time was your brother supposed to be meeting David?” Rimmer turned to Howard, who straightened up.

“I called him at around five and asked him to come right away. It should only have taken him half an hour tops to get there.”

“Where were you meeting him?”

“La Mariposa, downtown.”

“I’ll send some officers to check out the CCTV round there. And the kidnappers called you at seven-thirty, Mister Rimmer?”

“Yes.”

“So we’ve got roughly a two hour window for them to abduct David and get him to wherever they’re holding him. Your brother is a pilot, does he still have access to a ship?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Howard shook his head.

“Then the likelihood is that David is still here on Jupiter, but just as a precaution I’ll get a team to go through the air-traffic control records and check out anything suspicious.”

“Before you do that,” Petrovitch spoke up hesitantly, “There is something I would like to say that may be helpful.”

“Go ahead.”

                Petrovitch opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a bellowing voice from off-screen. “Aleks! Don’t you have any decent food in this place?” Petersen wandered into frame clutching a large bag of crisps, “There’s nothing but junk food in that kitchen! It’s a disgrace!”

Rimmer’s face was a picture. “You called _him?_ ”

Petrovitch looked pained, “Olaf is David’s friend too. He deserves to know what is happening.”

“He’s totally mad.”

“You bet your stinkin’ _razvbanan_ I’m mad,” Petersen growled, shaking a crisp at the screen menacingly. “Anybody messes with my friend, they’ll answer for it.”

“Besides,” Petrovitch looked sheepish, “As I was just saying, we may be able to help. But we have a little confession to make first, don’t we, Olaf?”

“Apparently. I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed about it.”

“It was a silly thing to do and David would be cross if he knew.”

“Maybe not so silly after all.”

“All the same...”

“Get to the point,” Rimmer snapped.

Petrovitch pushed his glasses up his nose self-consciously. “You remember David’s stag night?” he asked.

“Of course.” He and Lister had agreed it would be for the best if Rimmer did not attend that particular party, but he recalled the evening well enough. Especially the part where he’d had to carry a semi-conscious and still very drunk Lister over his shoulder to their bedroom the next morning, still woozily singing a lewd Danish folk song that Petersen had taught them at some point in the proceedings.

“Well, when we got back to my flat after we’d been out, David was sleeping at the kitchen table and Olaf and I had a naughty idea. It was kind of a running joke between the three of us and these things seem like a good idea when you are drinking. When David first started dating you, we teased him that something like this might happen, that someone would take him and demand ransom money.”

“We knew then that you were bloody trouble,” Petersen grumbled. Petrovitch ignored him.

“We said we should microchip him, so we could find him if it ever happened. He always got weirded out by the thought.”

Rimmer stared at them, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“We microchipped him while he was passed out,” Petersen confirmed proudly. Petrovitch looked decidedly less proud, “It seemed funny at the time,” he said apologetically.

“And he never knew about this?”

“He woke up when we injected it. He thought something bit him. He couldn’t understand why we were laughing so hard, but we were all very drunk. He probably forgot all about it the next day.”

“Are you telling me we can pinpoint where he is?” Rimmer’s heart leapt, “We could find him right now?”

“In theory,” Petrovitch said cautiously.

“Why didn’t you mention this earlier???”

“As I say, we were very drunk and we never tested it. And bear in mind, it was years ago now. There’s no guarantee it will work.”

“Only one way to find out,” Petersen added meaningfully.

“Do it,” Rimmer ordered, “Do it right now.”

 

                      Lister, once again tied tightly to his chair, watched silently as Murray straightened his clothes and smoothed his hair back. It was as if nothing had happened. There was no sign that anything grotesque and soul-destroying had just happened in this room. Murray turned to Norah, “I think we’re done here, don’t you? Go fetch one of the others to take over watch duty.” He smiled smugly at Lister, “I’m starving.”

A thousand screamed obscenities hovered behind Lister’s lips but he held back. He waited until Norah was out of the room, then spoke quietly. “Kidnapping and blackmail are one thing, Murray. Even rape. But that woman intends to murder me in a few hours. Are you really ready to get onboard with that?”

                The mocking smile faded from Murray’s face. “I don’t care what happens,” he said uneasily. “So long as I make it out of here with my share of the loot, she can do what she likes to you.”

“You heard what John said. You need me alive to get that loot.”

“She’ll wait for the trade. Norah’s nuts, but she’s smart enough for that.”

“She’s already said she doesn’t care about the money.”

“She cares about her dumb vendetta. She’ll wait for the last minute because that’s when it will hurt him the most. Just when he thinks you’re safe, that’s when she’ll make her move. That’s when he’ll watch you die.”

Lister looked up at him, his eyes full of sick despair. “All of this,” he said heavily, “Just because I wouldn’t shag you when we were in college. Really?”

“And money,” Murray’s smile bobbed back into place and he chucked him patronisingly under the chin, “Don’t forget that.” He picked up the gag and tied it tightly back in place then slunk out, tipping Lister a wink as he left. “Sleep tight, won’t you? Looks like it might be your last chance.”

 

 

               

 


	13. Chapter 13

                             Rimmer paced back and forth in front of the screen. “Is it working?” he asked again.

“Just a few more moments,” Petrovitch pleaded, “It’s still searching.”

“Why is it taking so long?”

“My internet is not so good in this building.”

“Maybe the microchip’s not functional anymore,” Petersen said despondently.

“There’s no reason why it should not be. It is under David’s skin, after all. It should not have sustained any damage. Be patient.”

                Inspector Roberts came back into view and addressed the screen, “I’ve just taken a call from one of my colleagues. They’ve got CCTV evidence of the abduction outside the restaurant. We’ve got pictures of two men, and a car make and registration. They’re running background checks and we’ve put out an APB.”

“Excellent,” Howard said cheerfully, “Look at that. I helped.”

“If it wasn’t for you, David wouldn’t have been down there in the first place!” Rimmer snapped.

                “Oh!” Petrovitch yelped suddenly with excitement, waving his arms, “It’s working! It’s working! I think we found him!”

“Where?” Rimmer flew to the screen, watching helplessly as those at the other end gathered around Petrovitch’s laptop.

“It’s just zeroing in, but it’s got a fix.”

“ _Where_ , dammit???”

“Wait, wait, wait! David is…..” Petrovitch trailed off dramatically, then jumped up and punched the air, “…at 24-62 Brunel Drive on Furnace Industrial Estate, Jupiter. Huzzah, we did it! We did it!” He and Petersen whooped and did the touch-up shuffle.

Inspector Roberts craned over the screen, beaming. “If only all missing person cases were solved this easily.”

“What are we waiting for?” Rimmer yelled at the screen. “Let’s get down there! You’ve got a smegging address, go do your job and arrest the bastards.”

“Hold your horses,” she straightened up, “Let’s just think about this for a moment.”

“What do you mean?”

“We need to make a plan before we go wading in.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve got a plan! We go down there and we get my husband back.”

“If we go in there guns blazing then there’s far more risk of David getting hurt. We don’t know how many of them there are, or what kind of weapons they might have. We need to tread carefully and get David out of harms way if possible before we do anything else.”

“How?”

“We’ll think of something.”

“You realise that every moment we’re sat here, Dave is in danger and scared to death.”

“I know it. But right now he’s in less danger than he would be if we raid the place. Right now they still need him. Once we hit the scene, he stops being a bargaining chip and becomes a human shield. Trust me, none of us want that.”

                Rimmer circled the carpet, “I can’t believe this. You can’t expect me to just sit here. You can’t ask me to just leave him there while you lot get your smeg together!”

“I know you’re scared and frustrated, Mr Rimmer, but please trust me. Acting impulsively now could cost David his life. Let’s do this properly.” Rimmer sank down into a chair, his head in his hands. Every bone in his body wanted to fly from this room and go straight to Dave’s side. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Taylor standing beside him. He realised his bodyguard wasn’t just trying to comfort him, he was asking him to stay put. “She’s right, Sir. We need a plan. And I think I’ve got one. Permission to share it?”

“Granted.”

“Let’s hear it,” Inspector Roberts leaned forward intently.

“Just hurry,” Rimmer told them desperately, “Please just hurry.”

 

 

                Lister sat, still tightly bound and gagged, in the unyielding metal chair in the windowless office. Behind him, sprawled across the desk, Beardy was snoring. Lister didn’t know what time it was, but he hadn’t slept a wink. The lightbulb blazed harshly overhead, the chair was uncomfortable and he ached all over. He’d tried to work himself free once he was certain his guard was asleep but it was no good. Even if he’d managed to get his wrists loose of the tape, his arms were still pinioned. He wasn’t getting out of this chair. Being tied up wasn’t new to him, but he’d never been restrained this tightly or for so long. He’d already suffered an agonising cramp in his left shoulder that had taken forever to pass and made him scream uselessly into the cloth wadded into his mouth. He hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for hours and he was weak and dizzy. Also, there was a strange burning sensation at the back of his neck. At least he’d been allowed to pee before his captors had all retired for the night, although it had been awkward with his hands behind his back and he’d had to do it in front of an audience.

Worst of all, he could still feel Sam Murray’s fingerprints on his skin; could still taste him, even smell him on his clothes. It was sickening. He wanted to scrub himself down with Ajax. It had preyed on his mind that Murray might come back to entertain himself at some point in the night while the others were sleeping, but he hadn’t appeared. Maybe he didn’t want to risk waking Lister’s guard and getting caught in the act, but Lister suspected that the explanation was simpler. Murray had got what he wanted and, having made his point, he’d now lost interest. Either way, Lister had bigger problems to worry about.

It was hard to wrap his head around the strong likelihood that he might die today. He thought of the conversation he’d had with Rimmer so recently and shuddered _. It’s not like falling asleep and waking up again. There is no waking up._ He was trying to prepare himself, but how? What would it be like? How would it feel, dying? How much would it hurt? And what would it do to Arnold to see him murdered?

 _It’s not the end of the world_ , he tried to tell himself. _After all, what’s so great about being human? Head colds, aging, the pain in your ribs from that bike accident that’s never really gone away entirely. All of that could be over and done with. And no matter what he says, there’s a part of you that will go on, that will be there for him and the boys to ease the pain. That part of you won’t remember any of this. It won’t have to live with hearing Arnold’s voice break at the other end of the phone, and knowing that you put both of you in this situation with your stubbornness and pride. It won’t remember this long dark night of the soul. It won’t have the memory of what Sam Murray did to you in this room while your murderer looked on and smiled. Do you really want to live with the weight of all this crap anyway?_

                The answer was yes. He did. Lister was not ready to die. There was too much ahead of him and he wasn’t going to give it all up to his hologram to take over where he left off. Not without a fight. He wanted to see his boys grow up. He wanted to enjoy being married to the most amazing man in the universe. He wanted his life. And there was something else he wanted too, but he hadn’t realised just how much until this moment.

He wanted another child. He didn’t care whose eyes it had. He didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl, or who it looked like. He just wanted that little baby that was part of him and part of Arnold, and partly its own wondrous, miraculous thing, more than anything in the universe. But there was one big problem. The process of making a baby required living tissue from at least one of the genetic donors. Whatever else happened, if Lister died today then any chance of he and Rimmer having another child would be gone forever.

Helpless, violated, and more frightened than he’d ever been, Lister waited for dawn on what might be the last day of his life.

 

 

                “Right,” Rimmer said, prowling around the office, “So I pull up at 06.00 on the dot and sound the horn. I get John to come out and parley while officers surround the building and scope out the situation. If possible, I get him to bring Dave out to me. Once Dave is out of the building, the team will move in and secure the premises and any gang members within. At this point, provided all has gone to plan, John should be ready to turn himself in.”

“Correct,” Inspector Roberts said.

“What if it hasn’t gone to plan?” Howard asked cynically.

“Then we’ll still have the SWAT team and a chopper on standby.”

“Oh, well, _that’s_ alright then.”

“Permission to go on reconnaissance with the officers, Sir?” Taylor asked, “There should be a few of us whose primary objective is to locate, monitor and protect David through the process.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Rimmer said gratefully.

“You don’t just need permission from your boss,” Roberts told him, “You also need it from me and I’m not sure I’m giving it. I agree with your idea, but I think it would be best to leave it to trained officers.”

“I am fully trained in both manoeuvres and firearms, ma’am, and if intervention turns out to be necessary I think both Mr Rimmer and Mr Lister would feel better for my presence.”

“I appreciate that, but you do realise the potential risks? Much as we’re all hoping this will go smoothly, we have to be prepared for anything.”

“I’ve worked as a bodyguard for many years, I assure you I am. Besides that, I’ve been here a long time and I’m very fond of Mr Lister. I can tell you without hesitation that I would take a bullet for that kid in a heartbeat.”

“Very well,” Roberts nodded, convinced.

“Thank you, Taylor,” Rimmer said quietly.

“My pleasure, Sir.”

               “What about us?” Petersen butted in indignantly, “You can’t ask us to stay behind! That’s our home-boy out there!”

“I’m not asking you,” Roberts told him, amused, “I’m _telling_ you. This is a police operation and there’s no place for civilians.”

“I’m not a civilian!” Petersen puffed his chest out, “I’m a chef!”

“I don’t care! You’re still not coming!”

“We could stay in the car,” Petrovitch said, holding up the laptop like an offering, “We could keep an eye on David’s tracker so that if they do manage to sneak him out we’ll know right away.”

“I can get an officer to do that.”

“Why waste manpower? We would like to help.”

“You heard the man,” Petersen said, “Get your officers on scene and let us boffins do what we do best.”

“I thought you were a chef.”

“I failed two years worth of interstellar-engineering at college. I know science.”

“Please,” Petrovitch looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes, “We will not interfere.”

Roberts eyed them uncertainly, “You’ll stay in the car and swear to me that you won’t leave it under any circumstances?”

“We swear! We swear, don’t we, Olaf?”

“Yes, alright. Stop elbowing me. We swear.”

“Alright, then. Don’t make me regret it,” she warned.

                Roberts checked her watch, “Right. Everyone go and get some rest. We reconvene at 05.00 hours.” The screen went dark.

Rimmer whirled away in disgust. “Rest? How am I supposed to rest?”

“At least you’ve got one less thing to worry about than the rest of us,” Howard snarked, “Seeing as you’re bullet-proof these days.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Just making an observation.”

“Well don’t.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare bullet-proof vest around by any chance?”

“What for?”

“Well, I’m coming too.”

“Like hell you are. You’ve caused enough trouble.”

“So let me put it right. We’ve got a better chance of getting John to be reasonable if we present a united front.”

“Hah! ‘Reasonable’ has never been a family trait, and you know it as well as I do. Cut the crap, Howard. Why are you even still here? Why are you helping me?”

“In for a penny, in for a pound.”

“How apt.”

“Oh, get over yourself. I don’t need your money. I’ve got a fortune right here,” he pointed to his crotch. Rimmer rolled his eyes disdainfully, sharing an embarrassed glance with Taylor.

“I’m doing this for the exact reason I said I was earlier,” Howard said plainly, “Because you’re scarier than John these days; and if being reasonable isn’t a family trait then siding with the winners is. If you’d found out I knew anything about this, I’d have been in the firing line anyway. I’d rather be standing behind you than toe-to-toe, if it’s all the same. Anyway, I liked David when I met him. He’s a smart lad and he seems very genuine. And of course, he’s rather cute.” Howard admiringly eyed a photo of Lister on the desk that showed him in his leathers, straddling a racing bike and grinning into the camera. Rimmer followed the direction of his gaze and scowled. “Careful,” he warned, “You are treading a _very_ thin line.”

“I bet he’s a little firecracker in the sack. Short guys always are, in my experience.”

Rimmer’s face flamed red. “Dave could be in mortal danger right now and you’re imagining what he’s like in bed?” he said furiously, grabbing the picture and turning it away angrily. “What is wrong with you? Show some respect!”

“Look, calm down,” Howard said irritably, “John’s just after your dosh. He’s got no interest in hurting Dave and I very much doubt that he has the stomach for murder. Even if the worst happens, what’s the big deal? You can always just bring Dave back again as a hologram. Right?”

Rimmer spun round and punched his brother in the face. “What’s the big deal???” he raged, “You’re asking me what the big deal is about my husband being _murdered_???”

“I was only pointing out that it’s not final, is it?” Howard quacked, holding his nose. “I mean, look at you. You got shot and you’re living with it. Figuratively speaking. It doesn’t matter so much these days, does it?”

                Rimmer glanced away, his eyes drawn to another photo on the desk. His two sons looked up at him, their eyes just like Dave’s. His throat tightened involuntarily. “It matters,” he said simply, his voice gravelly.


	14. Chapter 14

                Just before five am, Rimmer stood in the doorway of the twins’ bedroom with Mrs Jones by his side. “If all goes to plan we should be back by teatime tonight,” he said to her softly. “Try and keep them entertained and distracted. Don’t let them put the telly on. And try to stay cheerful like nothing is wrong.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to last until then, not knowing what’s happening.”

“I’ll be in touch as soon as I have any news. With any luck it should all be over and done with pretty quickly.”

“I pray you’re right. But please be careful.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Rimmer said anxiously. Mrs Jones touched his arm.

“It will be okay,” she said to him, “Whatever happens out there, you need to be strong. For Dave and for them. And I know you will.”

“How?”

“Because you’re Arnold Rimmer,” she shook his arm, “And don’t you forget it.”

                Rimmer went to each bed in turn and kissed his sleeping sons. “I’ll see you later,” he whispered to them. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’m going to bring your daddy home. I promise.”

 

                He went back down to his office. Howard was sitting up on the desk, where he’d obviously napped. Taylor was standing upright by the screen talking to Inspector Roberts. “Mr Rimmer, are you ready?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Taylor will drive you and your brother to the industrial estate. We’ll rendezvous on Stephenson Way, a few streets away from the factory. Taylor will get out and join the officers going into the premises and you will drive the car the remaining distance to the factory and proceed as planned. In the meantime, while you hold their attention, the rest of my officers will surround the building. Mr Petersen and Mr Petrovitch will stay on Stephenson Way and _remain in their car_ ,” she turned to stare meaningfully at the pair, “to keep an eye on David’s tracker. If it looks like they’re trying to move him then they will notify us via radio and give us appropriate directions to follow them.”

“Any more news on what we’re actually walking into here?” Howard asked nervously.

“The trace came back on the two men from the CCTV. Both petty criminals but not tied to anything else like this. The car was reported stolen some time ago, no real links there, but it was spotted – again on CCTV – a few weeks ago being driven by a man with a beard who matches the description of a Jay Horton. He’s been linked to cases like this in the past, it looks like your brother decided to bring in a professional.”

“If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well,” Howard remarked.

“But we don’t know how many others there might be involved. We’ll just have to see what we find when we get there, but I very much doubt we’ll be facing an army. The less people, the bigger the share of the ransom.”      

Rimmer didn’t care how many there were. He was ready to take on an army if he had to. He’d take them apart one by one if they stood between him and David. And that included John.

 

The drive over to the industrial estate was quiet and tense. They didn’t see any other vehicles or people on the streets surrounding the factory. Either it was still too early or this whole area had been deserted for some time. When they pulled up at the rendezvous point, they climbed out of the limo and Taylor banged on the loading doors of a large unmarked truck . It opened to reveal a unit of armed officers and a control panel. While Taylor got kitted out, Inspector Roberts came down to speak with Rimmer. “Here. Let’s get you wired up.” She attached the tiny microphone just under Rimmer’s collar and put another on Howard. “We’ll be listening in on everything. Stick to the plan and everything should go smoothly, but if it starts going pear-shaped then we’ll be here. We’re dividing into three groups - one team going into the building to locate David, a team to surround the place and make sure there’s no escapees, and a team in here with me to co-ordinate things and provide back-up if necessary. The chopper is on standby but I don’t think we’ll need it. Are you ready?”

“I was ready hours ago,” Rimmer told her resentfully.

“Just stay calm, don’t lose your cool, and everything will be fine.”

“Famous last words,” Howard muttered as they climbed back into the limo, this time with Rimmer in the driving seat, and rolled away down the block.

 

                Lister was roused from a daze of misery and exhaustion by the sound of a car horn outside. It sounded three times, close by, then three times again. Behind him, he heard Beardy stir from his sleep. The horn sounded again, and this time his guard got groggily to his feet, rubbing his face. “What the hell?”

John Rimmer walked in followed by the others, all of them obviously sleepy and alarmed. “There’s some sort of commotion outside,” he said agitated.

“I know,” Beardy replied irritably, “I can hear it.”

“Go check it out.”

“It’s probably just some jerk who’s broken down. Ignore it.”

“This part of the estate is deserted. There shouldn’t be anyone passing through. That’s why _we’re_ here, remember?”

“Look, it can’t be anyone who’ll cause us trouble. No-one knows we’re here. I’m not even s’posed to be speaking to your brother to give him directions for hours yet. So why panic?”

“ _Someone_ knows we’re here,” John insisted angrily, “And they’re trying to get our attention. So deal with it.”

The horn sounded again, three more long loud blasts. Lister fidgeted anxiously. Was whoever was out there here for him? Could this be a rescue attempt? And if so, given what Norah was planning, was that good news or bad news?      

“What are you waiting for, Horton? Go check it out,” John ordered, “And you two - Travis, Harper - go check the exits. Make sure nobody’s trying to distract us while they sneak in the back way.” The three men tramped out, throwing dark looks at John as they went. John stared them down until they were out of the room, then turned to Lister. “We don’t want any sudden changes in the plan, do we?”

Lister, who was horribly aware that two members of this gang already had a massive change of plan in mind, tried urgently to shake off his gag. If he could warn John of Norah’s intentions, maybe it wasn’t too late for him to put a stop to this. “John, listen to me!” he tried to cry through the cloth bound between his lips, but the words came out muffled beyond recognition, “Listen to me!”

Murray stepped forward nervously, “Cut it out, Lister. Even if someone is out there, they’re not going to hear you.”

“John!” Lister persisted in vain, “John, they’re going to kill me!”

“I said, cut it out!” Murray raised a fist warningly and John grabbed his arm.

“Hold it, Murray. Don’t go damaging the goods before we get paid.”

“You want him screaming for help?”

“No. You want to be the one to explain to my brother where he got that bruise from if you go ahead and smack him in the face?” Murray shook him off and lowered his arm, shooting Lister a warning look. “That’s better,” John told him, “Simmer down. And you,” he gave Lister a dismissive glance, “Shut it. Nobody’s going to hear you and nobody’s going to help you.”

               

                “What do we do if they just won’t come out?” Rimmer asked in frustration, as he and Howard sat in the limo outside the factory forecourt. “I’ve got John’s number. If I have to then I’ll call him, but ideally we want him out in the open. I’m not trained in hostage negotiation.”

“Wait,” Rimmer sat up straighter, “Wait, there’s someone coming out.”

Howard squinted at the emerging figure, “It’s not John.”

“But it’s a start,” Rimmer got out of the car and waited as the bearded man sauntered across to them with deliberate slowness and a look of annoyance. “Can I help you?” he asked, his expression indicating that he was feeling anything but helpful.

“I want to speak to John,” Rimmer told him bluntly.

“No John here. You’ve got the wrong place.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Place is deserted. Can’t you see that?”

“ _You’re_ here.”

“Caretaker. Now beat it.”

“Let’s leave aside the ridiculous charade, shall we? You know who I am, you know why I’m here. And I want to speak to John. _Now_.”

                The man eyed him silently for a moment then drew out his phone and made a call. “You better get out here,” he said simply, “It’s your brother. He wants a word with you.” He hung up.

“That’s better,” Rimmer said.

“What are you doing here? These weren’t your orders. How did you even find us?”

“Right now,” Rimmer told him, “that’s the least of your worries, sunshine. I’m here. That’s all you need to know.”

“All I need to know is whether you brought the cash with you,” the man retorted.

Rimmer’s jaw clenched angrily. “You’re the one I spoke to on the phone yesterday, aren’t you?” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah,” the man met his gaze belligerently, “I am.”

Rimmer’s arm shot out and his clenched fist hammered Horton squarely in the stomach. The man crumpled slowly to the ground making a sound like a punctured tyre, his eyes bugging out.

Rimmer leaned over him, “That’s for my ‘ _wife’_ , you son of a bitch.”

 

                “Shit!” John exclaimed viciously as he hung up the phone.

“What do you mean ‘shit’?” Murray demanded, “What did he say?”

“He said my brother is here and he wants to talk.”

“He’s here?!” Lister’s heart leapt at the same time as he saw Murray’s face contort in dismay, “How the hell did this happen? How did he know where to find us?”

“And how did he know I was here?” John asked, almost to himself.

“What are you going to do?”

“I suppose I’ll have to go out and speak to him. You two stay put and keep your eyes on the prize.” He nodded at Lister and headed out.

                Murray started to pace. “I don’t like this. This isn’t how it was supposed to go!”

“Who cares?” Norah replied coldly. She was leaning against the wall in the far corner and didn’t seem worried in the slightest. She reached into her handbag and drew out a small handgun. Lister’s heart immediately plummeted back down to his feet. “So he dies sooner rather than later. It’s all the same to me.” Lister cast a fearful glance at Murray. From the look on his face, he didn’t think it was all the same to him.

 

                “This is dumb,” Travis complained as he and his colleague traipsed to the other end of the factory to check the back doors. “Horton’s right, no-one knows we’re here. I should be asleep right now, not dragging my ass around because some dipshit courier or someone got their address wrong.”

“Whatever, man. Let’s just stick our heads out, say we looked, then go find some breakfast. If we’re up then we might as well eat.”

They pulled back the bolts and heaved open the old doors leading out to the rear of the lot. A semi-circle of guns looked back at them. “On the floor, gentleman,” Taylor said politely, “If you’d be so kind.”

               

John emerged from the factory and crossed the car park. He viewed his colleague lying curled in a ball on the ground without a flicker of compassion before turning to Rimmer. “How did you know it was me?” he asked, seeming affronted, “And how the devil did you track us down here?”

“Never mind how,” Rimmer replied, simmering with anger and still quivering with the adrenaline of violence, “I’m Arnold smegging Rimmer, _that’s_ how.”

“Don’t try that big talk with me. Arnold smegging Rimmer wet the bed until he was seven years old and cried when his pet lemming died. I know who Arnold smegging Rimmer is and he doesn’t scare me one bit.”

“Well, then you’re a damn fool,” Howard climbed out of the car and came to stand beside Rimmer, “But that’s not news to anyone.”

“I don’t believe this,” John said, disgusted, “You traitor. _You_ sold me out? You’re throwing in your lot with the runt? You idiot.”

“I’m throwing in my lot where the smart money is. Give it up, John. You are in way over your head with this. I know you think you’re untouchable, but this time you’ve gone too far. Besides, kidnapping? Really? Not classy.”

“Don’t talk to me about classy, Howard. You should be grateful I decided to blackmail Arnold instead of you.”

“Enough,” Rimmer said sharply. “The game’s up, John. Let’s at least try and draw this mess to as civilised a close as possible. Bring David out here right now and let me take him home and we’ll forget the whole thing.”

“Just like that?”

“I’d rather not go through the drama of the press getting hold of this. We’ve all got too much dirt between us to have them start digging, and no-one will come out of it well. And I’m assuming you’d prefer not to go to prison.”

“I think you’re forgetting something.”

“No, I don’t think I am. Don’t try bargaining with me. You have no cards left and the offer I’m giving you is already more than generous in the circumstances.”

“Wrong,” John lifted his jaw haughtily, “I’ve still got one card and it’s the most important one. I’ve still got your husband inside, tied up and muzzled like a dog, and all I have to do is make one phone call and my colleagues will quite happily put him down.”

“You harm _one single hair_ on his head and I will make you wish you’d never been born,” Rimmer growled threateningly.

“You’ve got nothing to gain by hurting David,” Howard added impatiently, “Anything you do to him will only make things worse for yourself. Right now the best you can hope for is getting out of here without being arrested. I’d take it if I were you.”

“But I’m not you, Howie,” John glared at them both, “That’s why I’ve always been number one in the family; because I’m the strongest. I don’t back down and I _always_ win.”

“What is it father used to say?” Howard reminded him, “‘Winning isn’t everything, but losing is nothing’. If you insist on playing this game then you _will_ lose.”

“Father was a pathetic lunatic who never amounted to anything. Winning _is_ everything. We’ll see who backs down first, shall we?” John confidently locked eyes with his youngest brother, “Because I’m betting Arnold wants his mutt back far more than I want anything he has to offer.”

                Rimmer stepped forward, his eyes glinting like ice. He grabbed John’s collar, yanked him so close that their noses squashed together, and realised something he’d not been aware of before. He and John were now the same height. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said. “You arrogant, obstinate, bull-headed _idiot_. You think nothing’s changed since we were kids. That I’m still the frightened ‘runt’ I was back then and you’re still the golden boy who had it all his own way because you were the biggest and the oldest. But I’ve got news for you, John. The status quo has changed.”

With a single sharp jerk, he lifted John off his feet with one arm, still holding him by the collar. John’s eyes bulged and his face started to turn magenta as Rimmer squeezed his neck. His feet kicked uselessly in the air. “Let’s check the facts, shall we? You are a washed-up, middle-aged man with a shattered career, no partner, and a receding hairline. I’ve got money, power, fame, a family who love me and, thanks to that bastard who raised us, I now have a practically indestructible body and superhuman strength - as you are probably noticing right now. You know what all that means, John? It means that _I_ am now number one in this family. _I_ am the strongest, in every conceivable way, and I am not afraid of you anymore, John. Do you hear me? I am not afraid of you but, with God as my witness, you had better be afraid of me. You ever try and take anything from me ever again - be it my money, my husband, or a smegging hand towel from one of the buildings I own - and you will regret it. Now you bring my David out here right this second, and if there is so much as a _scratch_ on him then so help me, I will dispense with the police and I will tear you to pieces in this car park with my bare hands.” He dropped John to the tarmac beside his friend, purple and wheezing, and bent over him. “ _Is that clear?_ ”

                John looked up, saw the fifty shades of fury burning in his brother’s eyes, and gulped hard. He pulled out his phone. “Bring the lad out,” he rasped weakly, “We’re done here.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

                “Screw this,” Murray barked angrily, phone still clenched in his hand, his face hunted.

“What’s happening?” Norah asked.

“I don’t know, but that idiot John is about to ruin everything. I _knew_ that hoity-toity git was all talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s backing down. Wants me to take our friend out and hand him over.” The butterflies in Lister’s stomach flew into a frenzy. If John was really giving in then maybe he was saved. Maybe the cops were waiting and Norah would be tackled before she could carry out her plan. Or maybe John had just chickened out, and as soon as they were outside she was going to shoot him in the back.

“So what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you what I’m _not_ going to do. I’m not giving up that easily. We’re taking over this show.”

“What about Travis and Harper?”

“Fuck knows where they’ve gone. Perhaps they’ve already done a runner. I don’t care. Screw them.”

“You really think you can still get the money?” she asked doubtfully.

“Norah, I’m neck deep in shit here. I _need_ to get that money or I haven’t got a prayer of getting out of this. Without that cash my life won’t be worth living,” he told her. “Up on the roof, let’s go.”

                Between them, they untied the ropes holding Lister in the chair and dragged him to his feet, still gagged with his wrists taped behind him. He dug his heels in stubbornly, refusing to go with them. Maybe if the police were outside, they could still get to him before this situation got any worse. Murray grabbed him roughly by the throat and shook him, his face flushed red with stress. “Do _not_ mess me about, Lister!” he shouted into his face. “I’m not taking orders from your brother-in-law anymore, and that means I am no longer under any obligation to play nice with you. You do what you’re told or I _will_ hurt you. Do you understand me?”

Lister heard a loud click behind him and felt something hard and cold on the back of his head. “You heard him,” Norah said calmly. Her hand was steady as a rock as she held the gun to his head. “Start walking or we’ll shoot you in the leg and drag you. Your choice.”

“That’s right,” Lister saw sweat on Murray’s brow, “Either way is fine with me. Now _move!_ ”

 

                Out in the car park, Rimmer was getting impatient. “What’s taking so long?” he demanded.

“How am I supposed to know?” John snapped, still hunched on the floor. His phone rang and he answered it angrily, “What?” His face became angrier still at what he heard. “What are you playing at, Murray? Just do what I told you.”

“Murray?” Rimmer repeated suspiciously.

“You stupid idiot! You have no idea what you’re doing!” John raged, before shoving the phone at Rimmer. “He wants to talk to you.”

 

Inside, Taylor kicked open the office door and stormed in, the other officers behind him. The room was empty, but there was a hard metal chair in the centre, with frayed ropes crumpled on the floor around it. “Damn,” he hissed.

“They can’t have gone far,” the lead officer told him reassuringly. “Everyone split up! Search this place from top to bottom. Move, move, move!”

 

Rimmer took the phone with trepidation, “Arnold Rimmer speaking.”

“Mr Rimmer. A little update for you. Your brother is no longer in control of negotiations. We have your husband and we still want our money. The original deadline still stands. Get in your car and come back when you’ve got something to swap.”

“Murray?” Rimmer said again, wracking his brains, “Why do I know that name?”

“Don’t try stalling. Your instructions are very simple.”

“So are yours. Let David go or face the consequences.”

“Believe me, Mister Rimmer, right now the last thing you want is for me to let David go. Look up to the roof.”

“The roof?” Rimmer did as he was told, shielding his eyes against the early morning sun.

 

 

                In the police van a few streets away, Inspector Roberts got on her radio. “Situation has changed,” she said tensely. “Get the chopper over here and get me a visual on that roof. Pronto.”

“Team A are in the building,” a voice came back over the radio, “Two perps secured. Do we head to the rooftop?”

“Hold back,” she said, “Wait until we know what’s happening up there. Chopper, what is your ETA?”

“Three minutes and counting.”

“Okay,” She drummed her fingers on the control panel nervously, “Keep him talking, Rimmer,” she said to herself under her breath, “Keep your cool.”

 

 

                In Petersen’s car back on Stephenson Way, Lister’s friends listened in to the police radio with furrowed brows. “What’s going on over there?” Petrovitch fretted, clutching the laptop and staring at the blue dot that represented Lister fearfully. “Why do they need the chopper? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Petersen said, chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes also fixated on the blue dot, “But I don’t like the sound of it, _min_ _ven_. I do not like it at all.”

 

 

                Rimmer squinted and made out three figures on the edge of the flat factory roof. One of them waved. “That’s me,” Murray told him down the phone, “David would wave to you, but he’s got his hands tied behind his back. And my colleague is busy trying to concentrate, because she’s got a gun against his head. Oh, and trust me on this, if I had any qualms about blowing David’s pretty little head clean off his shoulders, which I don’t, then she most definitely does not. You know what they say: ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’.”

Rimmer’s fingers tightened on the phone so hard that the casing creaked. “A woman scorned? What do you mean?”

“An old girlfriend of yours, she told us,” John chipped in, rubbing his throat where Rimmer had squeezed it. “Said you threw her over for David.”

“An old girlfriend?” Rimmer’s face paled as the implications of this sank in, “What else did she say?”

“About what?” John asked irritably, “I didn’t offer to sit down with her over tissues and ice cream to listen to her relationship woes. She was pissed at you, that’s all I needed to know. I’m not interested in the details of what a crappy boyfriend you were.”

“Norah?” Rimmer asked Murray urgently, “Is that Norah up there? Let me speak to her.”

“Sorry, she’s got her hands full. You’re stuck with me. So here’s the bottom line. If I don’t get my money then there’s only one way David’s getting down from here; and it’s the shortest way possible. But don’t worry, he won’t feel a thing. Because he’ll already have a bullet in his brain. Is that clear?”

“You bastard,” Rimmer said through gritted teeth, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”            

“Don’t be a fool. David’s not the only one with no other way off that roof. You kill him and you’ve got nowhere to go.”

“It only takes a second to pull a trigger. If you’re not going to play along then there’s plenty of time for us to kill him and get away before the police ever get here. So what’ll it be?”

“The police are _already_ here, you fetid human shit stain!” Rimmer exploded, losing his temper, “This whole place is surrounded.”

“What?” Murray squawked, horrified.

“What?” John echoed from his seat on the ground, equally horrified, “You said you didn’t want them involved, you Judas!”

“I lied,” Rimmer snapped.

 

 

“Dammit!” Inspector Roberts dropped the radio and drew out her gun, “Teams B & C, move in. Show yourselves and secure the perps in the carpark. Team A, hold back. Do not move onto the roof. Wait for the chopper. Repeat, do _not_ move onto the roof!”

 

 

               Lister saw Murray’s expression change swiftly from smugness to shocked dismay, and felt Norah’s grip tighten on his collar as she saw it too. _Oh smeg._ _What’s happening? What’s happening?_

“And let me tell you something, Murray,” Rimmer went on, “You had better hope and pray that they get to you before I do. Did you think I was going to just hand over the cash and let bygones be bygones? Did you think it was going to be that easy? Did you really think you could threaten me, threaten the man I love, and just walk away? Do you even _know_ who you’re dealing with here? There’s a SWAT team already in the building. That helicopter in the distance? It’s coming this way. You can’t win. You can’t escape. You’re finished. _Now let my husband go, you bastard._ ”

                Murray turned to Norah, his face pale. “He says the cops are here. We’re surrounded.”

“Whatever,” she said, “Then let’s just finish this.” She tightened her hold on Lister and pushed him towards the edge of the roof. He squirmed frantically, desperately trying to break her grip on him, screaming through his gag, “No! No!”

“What are you doing?” Murray asked her, horrified.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? This was the plan all along, right?”

“Maybe it was, but the game just changed!”

“For you maybe. This was never about the money for me.”

“Do you see that fricking helicopter, Norah?”

“I don’t care!” she shouted, “They can take me to prison, my life’s already ruined. But he has to pay! They both have to pay!” She shoved Lister closer again to the edge and he craned his neck round, looking away from the drop at his toes to turn desperate, pleading eyes on Murray. _‘Help me,’_ he begged silently, _‘For god’s sake, help me. Don’t let her do this.’_

Murray looked back at him, his face going positively green with panic and Lister realised that he was completely torn. He’d had no problem with the idea of killing Lister when he’d still thought he would be over the hill and far away with his cash when the shit hit the fan. Even if he’d eventually got caught, he could probably have convincingly argued that he hadn’t known what Norah was planning, and Lister would not be around to tell anyone what he’d done to him last night. Now, having dragged him up here and openly threatened to kill him, he couldn’t possibly claim innocence, even if it was Norah who actually pulled the trigger. But if he stopped her now, then _everything_ he’d done was going to be revealed. Even if he escaped the police, that meant that one of the richest, strongest, most powerful men in the galaxy was about to find out that Sam Murray had raped his husband. And now he had no money to run and hide with. Either way, whatever happened, he was royally screwed.

                “Fuck it,” he wheezed, backing away, clutching at his hair. He tossed the phone at Norah’s feet. “I’m out of here. Do what you want. I’m gone.” He turned and raced towards the fire escape and quickly disappeared from view, along with Lister’s last hope of salvation. “Well, fuck you too!” Norah screamed after him.

                She pulled Lister back from the edge of the roof, whipped the gun across his face and knocked him to the ground, then scooped up the phone. “Still there, Mister Rimmer?” she panted.

“Norah? Norah, what’s going on up there? Just come down. Please. It’s not too late to sort this out.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said, “It’s way too late. And so are you and the fucking cops. There’s just time for you to say goodbye to your precious prince.”

“No! Norah, stop! Listen to me…” She ignored him and knelt beside Lister. She pulled the gag from his mouth and held the phone to his ear. “Go on,” she ordered coldly, “Talk. Say goodbye to him.”

                Lister sobbed. He’d thought that phone call yesterday was the worst thing he’d ever have to do, but this was a hundred times worse, and he both longed and dreaded to hear his husband’s voice one last time. “Arn?”

“Dave! Baby…”

“I’m sorry!” he wept, “I’m so sorry!”

“No! Please, no!”

“It’ll be okay,” Lister hiccupped, “Just use the disc. It’ll be like nothing’s changed. We’ll still love each other. It will still be me.”

“Baby, no!” Rimmer was sobbing now too.

“Tell the boys I love them. And I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Oh god…”

                Norah pulled the phone away and stood up, aiming the gun at Lister. He screwed his eyes shut and turned away, curling into a foetal position. “You broke my heart,” he heard her tell Rimmer icily, “Now I’m going to break yours.”

 

A single gunshot echoed across the lot.


	16. Chapter 16

 

                  Norah screamed. So did Lister. “Drop the gun!” Taylor bellowed, advancing onto the roof with his own smoking gun still held out in front of him, more officers behind him, “Drop it now!”

“Don’t shoot!” Norah shrieked, tossing the weapon away and putting her hands in the air, “Please don’t shoot me!”

“That was just a warning! Get on the floor! Get down!”

                She fell to her knees, sobbing, hands still in the air. Two officers rushed over and grabbed her, quickly putting her in cuffs. “I didn’t mean it!” she was crying, “I wasn’t really going to shoot him, I swear! Please don’t hurt me!”

                Taylor dropped down beside Lister, who was still lying on the ground trembling. “David, you okay?” he asked, rolling him over and cutting through the tape binding his wrists.

“I think so,” he whispered. Or maybe shouted. His ears were still ringing from the gunshot and the roar of the incoming helicopter was building to a crescendo above them.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt.” Taylor put an arm under him and helped him up to his feet. Lister clung to his shoulder, steadying himself on trembling legs as he wiped the tears from his face, “Smeggin’ hell, man, when that shot went off, I thought I was a goner.”

“Yeah, that was a close one,” Taylor confirmed, “But don’t worry, I got you. You’re going to be fine. Let’s get you back to the boss, shall we?”

“Oh god! Arn!” Lister dived for the discarded phone.

 

                “Norah, please!” Rimmer screeched, “I’m begging you! Don’t do this! Norah!” When the shot sounded, he dropped the phone and fell to his knees with a howl of despair.

“Holy smeg,” Howard whispered, dumbstruck.

“Oh fuck,” John said, his face a picture of horror and dismay. “Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

                The police swarmed around them. John and Horton were put in handcuffs and two officers knelt beside Rimmer. Howard was standing to one side watching the scene unfold when something caught his eye. Movement up on the roof. “Look!” he yelled, lunging forward and grabbing his sobbing brother by the shoulder. He pointed upwards, “Arnold, look!”

                Rimmer wiped his eyes and squinted into the light to see Lister standing on the edge of the roof waving frantically with both arms. He gasped and scrabbled for the phone he’d just dropped.

“David!”

“It’s okay!” Lister screamed euphorically down the phone, “I’m okay!”

“I heard a shot!”

“It was Taylor! He saved the day! I’m not dead!”

“I can see that!” Rimmer screamed back, “Now get off the edge of that roof before that changes!” He heard Lister laughing hysterically at the other end of the phone. “What are you laughing at?” he demanded angrily, “What so funny?”

“You’ve always got to find something to worry about, don’t you?”

“God-smegging-dammit, David! When I get my hands on you…!”

“I love you, Arn,” Lister giggled, wiping at his eyes, “You’re the most ridiculous, neurotic man in the universe but I love you.”

“Get down here right now!”

“Wait,” Lister told him breathlessly, his mind starting to clear, “Wait, there’s something I have to do first.” He hung up and grabbed Taylor’s arm, “Follow me!”

“Where are we going?”

“There’s still one more scumbag to round up.”

“I really think I should take you back down to Mr Rimmer.”         

“This is something I have to do.”

“The police can deal with it. You’ve been through enough.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Please, Taylor. I’m not letting him get away. _I will not let him get away_.”

 

                Petersen and Petrovitch were clinging to each other in the car when the news came through on the radio, “No medical assistance required. Repeat, no assistance required. Warning shot fired only. Perp is disarmed and in custody, and victim secured and unharmed.”

“Oh, thank heavens!” Petrovitch clutched at his chest, “My heart was dancing a _chechotka_ for a moment there!”

“No kidding. That was a brown-trouser moment and a half.”

“One perp still unaccounted for,” the transmission went on, “Dark haired man, mid to late twenties. Fled on foot heading east. Chopper circling in pursuit.”

“East?” Petrovitch squinted at the screen, “Then he is coming this way!”

“Is that so?” Petersen narrowed his eyes.

“According to this map there is a network of alleyways around the back of the factory and the adjoining lots. He must be coming through there. We should let them know.”

“No time!” Petersen slammed the car into gear and took off with the wheels spinning.

“Olaf, no! We promised the Inspector we would not interfere!”

“We’re not interfering. We’re helping.”

“I should use the radio to inform the other officers.”

“They’ll catch up. They’ve got a chopper. All we’re doing is cutting off his escape.”

“I’m not sure about this.”

“Do you want this douchebag to get away?”

“Of course not!”

“Then tell me where to go.”

“The other way!”

 

 

                    Murray was hurtling down the last stretch of alleyway when he heard the shout behind him. “Oi! Where do you think you’re going?” He risked a look behind him and saw Lister in hot pursuit. He turned ready to flee again and, as he did so, a car skidded to a halt across the mouth of the passage, blocking his escape. He looked around desperately for another way out and went to scramble up another fire exit but Lister was already on him. He grabbed him by the seat of his trousers and dragged him down, slamming him against the wall. “Skipping out on the party so soon?”

“I heard a shot. Don’t tell me she missed you at that range. How the fuck are you still alive?”

“With no thanks to you, you piece of shit.”

“Back off,” Murray growled, shoving him away. “Your knob in shining armour is waiting for you outside so go and scurry back to him. However you managed it, you’re obviously still in one piece, so let me leave the same way.”

“After what you did? Oh, I don’t think so. Certainly not after you legged it and left me on that rooftop to die, you disgusting coward. Me and you, we’ve got a score to settle.” Murray went to run and Lister grabbed him and threw him back against the wall, “What?” he challenged, “Not so ready to play now that I’m not tied up? You really are scum.”

“Don’t give me that,” Murray taunted, “You liked it. You love that whole whips and chains thing. You enjoyed it and you know it. Just admit it.”

“What did he just say?”

They looked around and saw Petersen and Petrovitch walking down the alley towards them.

“Guys?” Lister said, astounded.

“Dave! My goodness, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lister said, perplexed, “But what are you doing here?”

“We’re helping,” Petrovitch said uncertainly,

“Here to make sure that the bad guys get what’s coming to ‘em.” Petersen clarified, glowering dangerously at Murray.

“Then you’re just in time. You remember Sam, right guys?”

“Yeah, I remember you alright, you slimy little _lortehoved_ ,” Petersen growled.

“Isn’t this nice?” Lister said sweetly, “Like a reunion.”

“Dave, am I hearing this right? Did this guy put his hands on you?” Petersen demanded, rolling up his sleeves to show thick muscled arms that could slice through meat bones with one swish of a cleaver.

“More than his hands,” Lister confirmed, his voice and sickened expression saying more than words could.

                      Murray was starting to sweat nervously. “Yeah, I did. So now what?” he asked edgily, “You’re gonna get your pals here to beat me up before you hand me over to the fuzz?  Why am I not surprised? This really is like a reunion. You’ve always got someone to hide behind, haven’t you?”

“I don’t need them to kick your arse for me, you _bastard_.” Lister reared back and smacked Murray hard in the mouth, knocking him flat to the floor, then dropped on top of him and punched him hard twice more. A hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to his feet. Taylor had caught up with him. “Dave. Enough,” he said gently, holding onto his arm. Petrovitch also went to his side and put a hand on his trembling shoulder. Murray stared up at them from the ground, blood trickling down his face from his nose and mouth. “Let him go ahead and mangle the guy,” Petersen argued, “Did you hear what Dave just said? He deserves it all and more. I’d happily take him apart myself.”

“He’ll get what’s coming to him,” Taylor said grimly.

Down on the ground, Murray spat blood and laughed bitterly, “Great. Go ahead. Drag me back to the cops then. But I’m warning you, if I go down I’ll make sure the whole galaxy knows your dirty little secret. I’ll see to it that all the filthy details about you and that pervert and your fucked-up sex life are made public. It’ll be splashed across the front page of every tabloid in the solar system. Norah will back me up. You’ll never be able to show your faces again. What do you think that will do to company share prices? Your little empire will come crashing down. They’ll take your kids away from you. Who would let people that depraved look after children? You send me down and you’ll lose _everything_ , Lister. Just you see.”

“You don’t scare me, Murray.”

“You think I won’t do it?”

“I think you’re never going to hurt me, or Arnold, or anyone else, ever again. Remember what you said to me yesterday?” Lister reminded him, “When you were bitching about how you can cover up whatever you want when you’re a billionaire?” He held out his hand and Tayler silently passed him his gun. He watched the colour drain from Murray’s face with a satisfied smile as he took aim. “You weren’t wrong.”

 

                Rimmer was standing outside the front of the factory with the police when they heard the second shot. He spun round panicked, “What was that? Was that another gun? What’s happening?” Roberts immediately got on the radio.

“Officers, confirm status. What’s going on out there? Did anyone just open fire?”

“Negative, Inspector.”

“Negative. No action here.”

“So who’s shooting?” Rimmer demanded frantically, “Where the hell is Dave? I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

“Arnold!” Behind him, John was being bundled into a police van in handcuffs, “I’m family, dammit! How could you betray me like this? Can’t you at least get them to take off this wretched jewellery for crying out loud? I’m your brother!” Rimmer turned, his expression poisonous.

“Are you serious? My husband almost died today because of you. I still don’t know where he is or if he’s okay.”

“Look, how was I to know the silly mare was off her rocker?”

“I don’t care what you knew! You put him in this situation, you still threatened him, and you still tried to take my money. As far as I’m concerned, _I have no brother_.”

“Well, that’s just hurtful,” Howard remarked beside him.

“Oh, shut up.”

                John turned to his other sibling for help, “Howie, talk to him, for god’s sake. You don’t want the family name tainted like this. Think what Mummy will say!”

“John,” Howard said mildly, “If I gave two hoots about the family name, I wouldn’t be using it at work.”

“Come on, man. We grew up together. We were the three musketeers! Remember?”

“I remember. I also remember that time you broke my nose during rugby, because you just had to win, you _arse_. Don’t look to me for help. I think it’s time you learnt how to lose.” The officers slammed the doors of the van shut and Howard turned away dismissively. “I’ve been waiting _years_ to get him back for that,” he confided to Rimmer with a malicious smile.

             Rimmer didn’t reply. He’d just seen Lister appear around the side of the building, flanked by Petersen and Petrovitch. He sprinted towards him. Lister saw him coming and also broke into a run. They met in the middle of the factory forecourt and collided in a bone-crushing embrace. Lister flung his arms around Rimmer’s neck and Rimmer swept him up, lifting him off his feet for a second. It hurt a little, but Lister didn’t protest. He didn’t care. It felt good.

“Thank God,” Rimmer whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. “Oh, Dave. David. Baby. Are you alright?”

“I am now,” Lister reassured him.

Rimmer clutched him tightly in his arms, “You see _this_ ,” he told him mock-sternly, his lips against his ear, “is why I don’t let you take taxis.”

Lister snorted a laugh. “Hey,” he joked feebly, “The taxi ride was a breeze. It was when I got _out_ of the taxi that the trouble started.”

“You still want to argue about this? Now?”

“No,” Lister squeezed him, “No, I don’t.”

Rimmer pulled back just enough to look him up and down and check him over. “What’s this?” he examined the bruise coming up on Lister’s cheek where Norah had pistol-whipped him, his eyes blazing, “Did one of those bastards hit you? Who was it?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing.”

“There’s blood on you...”

“It’s okay,” Lister insisted, reaching up with both hands to soothingly stroke his husband’s face, “It’s okay. It’s not mine.”

“What happened in there?”

“Listen to me,” Lister told him softly and urgently, still cupping his face and drawing him down close, as the other two caught up with them and stood close by. “Just for a minute. You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you, but I need you to stay calm, because this is important. I’m going to need your help.”

                Inspector Roberts watched their reunion from over by her car with a relieved smile. Taylor’s voice came through on her radio. “Ma’am, I have apprehended the missing suspect. I’d appreciate it if you could send back-up. He’s going to require some medical attention.”

“What level of attention?”

“Gunshot wound. Non-critical but he is losing a significant amount of blood.”

“Where are you?”

“In the alleyway behind the delivery point.”

“Medics, you heard him. Get a team down there.”

“On the way, Ma’am,” the response crackled through immediately.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I was escorting Mr Lister back to safety when he attacked us. He must have been lying in wait. I was forced to take action.”

                Roberts glanced back towards the figures across the carpark. She saw Lister holding Rimmer’s face in his hands, talking softly. She saw Rimmer straighten up stiffly, his face stricken. He moved to walk past Lister, striding purposefully in the direction they’d just come from but Lister quickly sidestepped him, blocking his way and putting both hands on his husband’s chest with a pleading expression. He was speaking to him urgently, his two friends standing beside him also joining in, emphasising whatever he was saying. Even from this distance she could see the fury and frustration on Arnold Rimmer’s face. Lister said something that finally seemed to get through to him. He pulled Lister back into his arms and clutched him protectively to his chest and she saw the other two relax.

                “Tell me,” she said suspiciously, “Did Misters Petersen and Petrovitch happen to witness this altercation?”

“Not exactly. I called them and asked them to escort David back to you while I stayed with the prisoner. They heard him confess to the attack. Amongst other things.”

“They got there very quickly.”

“They were eager to assist.”

“Well, we’ll go over all this in detail later on at the station,” she said guardedly.

                She approached the little group still standing in the carpark. “Mister Lister, I’m very glad to see that you’re safe. Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” Lister said, still huddled against Rimmer’s chest, “I’m okay.”

“Do you feel able to come down to the station with us to give a statement?”

“After what he’s just been through?” Rimmer thundered.

“No, it’s fine,” Lister said wearily, “It’s got to be done. Let’s just get it over with.”

“I understand you’ve had a very frightening experience. We’ll try and make this as easy for you as possible.”

“Frightening?” Rimmer repeated angrily, stroking Lister’s back, “I think you mean traumatic. Baby, tell her what you just told me.” Lister looked at Roberts. She saw dark circles under his eyes. “The man in the alleyway,” he said heavily, “I know him. We were at the academy together, and college before that. I suppose you could say we’ve got a bit of history. He raped me last night.”

“I see,” she said quietly. “Then it’s all the more important that we speak to you as soon as possible. All of you.” She eyed Petersen and Petrovitch who looked in opposite directions innocently.

                Lister took a few wobbly steps, still clinging to Rimmer, then swayed. He was suddenly very aware that he was hungry and weak and had been running on fear and adrenaline for hours. Now, finally secure in the shelter of Arnold’s arms, his body had decided it was safe to crash. “What’s wrong?” Rimmer panicked, holding him tight.

“I’m sorry,” Lister said automatically, “It’s nothing. I just…I haven’t eaten for ages and I didn’t sleep last night and everything’s been so crazy.”

“Can you walk to the car?” Roberts asked gently.

“Yes, I think so. With a little help.”

“Okay then. Let’s get you out of here. I’ll talk to the station, tell them to have food ready.”

                She watched as the small group headed towards the limo. Lister and Rimmer stayed glued to each other with every step.

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

                “Can’t we go yet?” Rimmer demanded several hours later, as Inspector Roberts entered the room and sat down opposite them. He and Lister sat at the other side of the table with Mr Edwards, Rimmer’s most trusted lawyer. They’d been at the police station most of the day now, going over their statements ad nauseum and going through all the other unpleasant necessities of the situation. On the upside, Lister was now clean and dressed in fresh clothes. His own things had been taken away to be checked by forensics. Most importantly from his perspective, he’d been fed. He’d been secretly delighted when the meal provided by the police station had turned out to be cheap fast food take-out. Such delicacies were a rare treat normally frowned upon by his husband. “Can’t you find him something better than this muck?” Rimmer had insisted of the terrified young rookie on the desk. Lister had quickly pulled the tray towards him before it could be taken away. “Can’t wait,” he’d said swiftly, “Starving.” Faint with hunger, he’d have eaten anything put in front of him anyway. The first bite was like heaven. It had been a long time since David Lister had last been hungry.

“There’s just a few things I want to get absolutely clear before we send you on your way,” Roberts said evenly.

“My husband has been through a horrific ordeal. He needs to be back at home with his family, not sat here rehashing it over and over.”

“It’s very important that we get all the information and all the facts.”

“You’ve got them.”

“Bear with me just a few more minutes, Mr Rimmer. The officers at the hospital where Mr Murray is under house arrest have reported back to me now, and there’s a couple of things I want to go over.”

“Unless they’ve reported that he’s died of blood loss, I couldn’t give a damn.”

“He’s in no danger of expiring. His condition is reported to be non-critical, but he is in some rather extreme discomfort.”

“Karma’s a bitch,” Rimmer retorted.

                           Roberts turned to Lister. The gunshot wound might have been non-critical, but it also appeared to have been aimed very precisely; ensuring that Sam Murray was never going to be able to do what he’d done to Lister to anyone else ever again. “It’s just that his version of events rather conflicts with the statements we’ve already heard.”

“Of course it does.” Rimmer insisted, “He’s the bad guy and a raving nutter to boot.”

“He’s admitted to his involvement in Dave’s abduction. He also admitted to having sex with David last night although, given the forensic evidence, he couldn’t really deny it. But he claims that it was consensual.”

“What?!”

“He also denies attacking David and Mr Taylor in the alleyway. He says he was only trying to escape capture and that you pursued him.” She fixed her eyes on Lister’s face, “And he says it was David who shot him and not Mr Taylor.” Lister remained sitting silently by Rimmer’s side. There was not a flicker of reaction in his face at her words.

“That’s absurd,” Rimmer said dismissively, “The whole thing is absurd.”

Roberts ignored him, keeping her eyes on Lister. “Your fingerprints _are_ on the weapon, Mister Lister.”

“Like I already said, Taylor handed me the gun to hold while he checked on Murray.”

“He could have put the gun on the floor.”

“He could have but he didn’t. Besides, it made more sense to give it to me. Murray could still have been armed for all we knew.”

“A strange coincidence where the bullet hit him though, don’t you think?”

“Like Arn says,” Lister met her gaze levelly, “Karma’s a bitch.”

                “I’m sorry, but what is the point of this discussion?” Rimmer asked irritably. “Taylor has been very open that it was him who fired the shot.”

“Mr Taylor is a registered bodyguard and fully authorised to take such action in the line of duty,” Mr Edwards reminded the inspector, his face inscrutable behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “He was protecting both Mr Lister and himself at the time.”

“Why were you and Mr Taylor in the alleyway, David?”

“I already told you. He was taking me back to Arnold.”

“But why go down the fire escape instead of back down through the building? Especially when you knew that Murray had gone that way?”

“I didn’t want to go back in there. I didn’t want to walk back through that place. Besides, we both thought Murray would be long gone. We didn’t think he was crazy enough to still be hanging around.”

“Why do you think he was?”

“He wanted to know what had happened to me. He’s obsessed.” Lister told her, “That’s why he got involved in this whole mess in the first place.”

“Not for the money?”

“The money was a front. He told me last night, when he…did what he did.” Lister glanced nervously at Rimmer, “He said _‘I would have done it anyway. I would have done it for free, just for this.’_ Does that sound like a sane person to you?”

Roberts saw Rimmer grip Lister’s hand tightly. There’d been barely a moment since the pair had been reunited that they hadn’t been touching somehow. “Do you think he intended to kill you in the alleyway?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He wouldn’t stop. Not when I hit him, not when Taylor managed to get between us to hold him off me, not even when he saw Taylor had the gun out and was warning him to stay back. He just kept coming. I think he would have killed me or died trying.”

“It was Miss Steele who seemed more intent on doing away with you. After all, she’s the one who stayed on the roof with you, even when she knew the police were coming.”

“Murray would have been quite happy to have done it himself. He even said so to Arnold on the phone. He panicked when he saw the helicopter, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the scene until he knew whether I was alive or not.”

                Roberts turned to Rimmer, “Speaking of Miss Steele, she seems to have gone awfully quiet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr Murray has made some rather libellous claims about you which he said she would be willing to verify. She’s an ex-partner of yours, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, since she was arrested, the fight rather seems to have gone out of her. All she was willing to say was that she was angry because you left her for your husband. Is that true?”

“No. Norah and I were finished before I met David.”

“She says that your relationship with her ended in March of that year. If I recall, your engagement was announced in August that same year.”

“So?”

“That seems like a quick turn around.”

“What can I say?” Rimmer turned to gaze lovingly at his husband. Lister smiled back at him wistfully.

“So she’s incorrect that you were unfaithful to her?” Roberts persisted, “There was no cross-over in the relationships?”

“Either way,” Lister interjected coolly, “It doesn’t have any bearing on what she did. Even if she was right and Arnold and I had got together behind her back, I don’t think that would give her the right to kill me.”

“I’m just trying to get a clear picture of events to establish her motives. As I said, Mr Murray has insinuated there’s a little more to it.”

“But she denies that?” Rimmer asked cautiously.

“She won’t _confirm_ it.” Roberts watched the pair carefully and saw them share, just for a nano-second, what may have been a nervous glance.

                Mr Edwards spoke up, “Can you tell us the nature of Mr Murray’s allegations, Inspector?”

“He says that the two of you, and Miss Steele, are involved in some strange kinky sex practices. He claims that all sexual activity that took place last night between himself and David was related to that; and was initiated, orchestrated, and encouraged by both David and Miss Steele.”

“That despicable roach,” Rimmer’s face was white with rage. Lister stroked his hand calmingly. He looked unhappy, but not surprised. “Anything else?” he asked jadedly.

“He says that all of this - including the gaping hole where his manhood used to be - is an attempt to cover up your lifestyle from the public, and to hide your infidelity last night from your husband.”

“Did Miss Steele have any comment to make on that?” Lister asked crisply.

“Not really. When questioned, all she would say on the matter was that she was not directly involved in what took place.”

“Like hell she wasn’t,” Lister replied bitterly, “She’s every bit as guilty as he is.”

“So there’s no truth in anything Mr Murray says?”

“What do you think?” Rimmer asked her angrily.

Roberts sat back in her chair and viewed them suspiciously. “I think,” she said matter-of-factly, “that there is very little doubt about what happened over the course of last night. Your brother organised David’s kidnapping in order to extort money from you, and Mr Murray took advantage of the situation in the worst way possible. With the surrounding circumstances being as they are, I don’t think there’s any way his claim that David was a willing participant will fly in court.”

“Damn right,” Rimmer growled.

“What happened in that alleyway this morning is a different story though.” She looked hard at them both. “There’s clearly all kinds of drama in the background between the four of you and it’s not my place to comment on that. But at the end of the day, I’ve got four witnesses against one saying that it went down the way you say it did, and a _reasonably_ credible explanation.” She eyed Lister for a moment. He didn’t blink. “Whatever allegations Mr Murray has, I don’t think they’ll stop him from seeing some serious jail time.”

“I think perhaps,” Mr Edwards chimed in, “My clients are a little more concerned about the effect his allegations may have on their reputation. As you say, there is no doubt that the man is guilty and it seems very likely that his actions are the result of an unfortunate obsession with Mr Lister.”

“Perhaps. What’s your point?”

“I would suggest that he be tried as insane.”

“Why? His actions may have been extreme but my officers tell me he seems perfectly lucid.”

“He’ll use these despicable lies in court as a defence, whatever the outcome. It would be much fairer if it is made clear from the outset that these are the notions of a madman.”

“I’m not sure we can swing it,” she said doubtfully.

“I’m sure you can find a way.”

“He’d need to be certified by a doctor.”

“That can be arranged.”

“An _independent_ doctor.”

“Of course.”      

                Roberts sighed. It would be no problem at all for Arnold Rimmer to bribe every damn doctor on Jupiter and beyond if he wanted, and everyone in this room knew it. Lister, who had been so remarkably calm through this whole process spoke up quietly. “Please,” he said to her, “We have so little privacy as it is. The idea of the whole solar system gossiping about our sex life as well – it would be unbearable. Please help us.” She looked at his quivering brown eyes and softened slightly.

“There may be something I can do to keep some of the more…unpleasant details under wraps from the press. But you know, if he is judged insane, he’ll get a lighter sentence. Do you want that?”

“Inspector,” Rimmer said, his voice like flint, “Whatever happens, I am sure Mr Sam Murray is going to serve some _very_ hard time indeed.” The words ‘ _I intend to see to it_ ’ hung unspoken in the air.

Roberts gave up. “You’re free to go. All of you.”

“Thank you.”

                Back in her office, she watched out of the window as the two Rimmer brothers, Lister, Petersen and Petrovitch huddled outside the back of the station, avoiding the paparazzi as they waited for Taylor to bring the limo round. “What do you reckon?” her colleague asked, handing her a cup of coffee.

“My gut tells me there’s something not quite square about all this,” she admitted, “But they’re all sticking to the story, and if the bodyguard insists that it was him who pulled the trigger then we don’t have much grounds to argue with him, so what’s the point? At least it wraps things up nice and neatly. Trying to build a case against Lister would be pointless and we both know it. Even if we had sufficient evidence, which we don’t, the lawyers would tie us up in knots before we’d even begun. Besides,” she sipped her coffee, “if it _was_ Lister who blew that guy’s nuts off, I wouldn’t blame him. Hell, I’d be tempted to do the same in his place.”

“Do you buy the insanity thing though? That Murray’s got some twisted obsession with him and all the kinky stuff is just a sick fantasy?”

“I think if Arnold Rimmer has anything to do with it, Mr Murray is going to spend the rest of his life pissing out of a tube in an insane asylum either way. And let’s be honest, Mr Rimmer usually gets what he wants.”

“Well, the girl’s certainly not talking. You’d think if it was all just crazy bullshit she’d be willing to say as much.”

“Silence can speak volumes, can’t it?” She thought again of that fleeting glance Lister and Rimmer had exchanged before their lawyer stepped in.

“So you _do_ think it’s true?”

“I don’t care,” Roberts sighed, “It’ll never get out, you mark my words. They’ve got too much money and too many lawyers. I don’t think even the scuzziest tabloid papers out there would dare risk Rimmer’s wrath by printing it without concrete evidence. He’d take them to the cleaners. And even if it did get leaked, look at the two of them.”

Her colleague joined her at the window and followed her gaze down to the pavement, where Lister was cuddled tightly in Rimmer’s arms, his head resting on his shoulder. Rimmer was stroking his back. “Those little lovebirds?” she remarked sardonically, “David Lister and Arnold Rimmer, sweethearts of the human race, the universe’s most beloved couple, engaging in something as nasty and dirty as S&M? Who would ever believe it?”

               

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

They all sprawled out dog-tired in the back of the limo as Taylor sped them back to the hub. Lister lay with his head in Rimmer’s lap, their hands still tightly linked together. Petersen was raiding the mini-bar and Petrovitch was watching him wearily, “What are you doing? You don’t even drink anymore, Olaf.”

“I’m curious, that’s all.”

“It’s a mini-bar. What’s the big deal?”

“It’s a mini-bar _in a car_. Don’t pretend you’ve ever seen one in a car before. Oh, wait, I was forgetting. You’ve been in this swanky hotel with wheels before.”

“It’s still got the same stuff in as any other mini-bar.”

“How do you know unless you look? Fuck me, there’s Toblerone. These arseholes have _Toblerone_ in their fucking in-car mini-bar. That’s the high life for you, right there.”

“If you want the Toblerone then have it,” Lister told him, amused, “It’s all yours. You’ve earned it.”

Petersen sat back and unwrapped the chocolate gleefully. “So,” he said briskly in the exhausted silence, with his mouth full, “What that bastard said about you two being all into that dirty dungeon scene. That legit?”

Rimmer spluttered incoherently, his face going first white then magenta. Lister tried to give Petersen an evil look, but somehow couldn’t stop the tiny smile that skipped across his lips. Somehow, after almost getting shot in the head, this didn’t seem like such a big deal.

“Maybe,” he replied defiantly.

Rimmer spluttered some more. “Dave!” he protested.

Petersen weighed this up as he chewed his chocolate, then hooted with laughter. “You kinky bastards,” he said approvingly, then went back to investigating the minibar.

Petrovitch, almost as red as Rimmer, scolded him awkwardly, “Olaf! Is none of our business how David and Arnold sex each other! You shouldn’t ask such questions!”

“I don’t believe this,” Rimmer said, covering his eyes. Lister patted his thigh reassuringly.

“Isn’t acceptance a wonderful thing?” he murmured softly.

“Our lips are sealed, are they not, Olaf?”

“Relax, Rimsy. Your secret is safe with us,” Petersen agreed.

“And you said the tabloids would have a field day if they found out about _me!_ ” Howard piped up indignantly.

“Can we talk about something else?” Rimmer asked weakly. He switched on the small TV screen and turned to the news.

                A female reporter was standing in front of the factory where Lister had been held. There was police tape still cordoning off the gates behind her. “...locals report hearing a number of gunshots at the scene, although so far only one person, confirmed to be one of the gang members, has been reported as injured. He is currently being treated in hospital.”

“He got off easy,” Petersen growled. Lister felt the grip on his hand tighten almost painfully as Rimmer struggled with the rage, but said nothing, just stroked him gently with his thumb.

He knew Rimmer would have liked to inflict some retribution of his own but, as far as Lister was concerned, this was his fight and vengeance belonged to him alone. Besides, if Rimmer had got his hands on Murray, Lister very much doubted that the man would have left that place alive. Anyone could pull a trigger, but only one man he knew was capable of tearing somebody literally limb from limb; and even one of the richest men in the solar system would find it difficult to explain away and cover that up. Lister still wasn’t entirely convinced that Rimmer was going to let this go, but he didn’t have the energy to worry about that now.

                The image on screen changed to John Rimmer being ushered out of the police van in handcuffs. Howard sighed deeply. “Well,” he said philosophically, “You’re a fetish fiend who married a common scouser, I’m a fraud and a porn star, and now John is a criminal. I wonder what terrible secret Frank is hiding.”

“What have I married into?” Lister shook his head sadly.

“Maybe you should use this opportunity to come clean to Mother about your career.”

“Are you joking? I think that would finish the old bag off.”

“That’s the idea.”

Lister elbowed his husband, reprimanding him gently. “Come on,” he said to Howard, “At least you’re not going to prison.”

“Trust me, Dave, in our mother’s eyes, prison would be preferable.”

“Which is ironic, considering that she’s spent most of her life doing exactly what Howard’s been doing, only without getting filmed doing it,” Rimmer interjected sourly.

Lister stared at him, “Did I hear that right? Did you actually just stick up for your brother?”

“I wasn’t sticking up for him. I was just pointing out that our mother is a hypocrite and an awful human being. I still think he’s a total ass-hat.”

“And I still think you’re a whiny weasel-faced git,” Howard said cheerfully, “But thanks for letting me stay over tonight, all the same. Assuming I won’t have to sleep on your desk again. It wasn’t terribly comfortable.”

“You made him sleep on a desk?”

“I didn’t _make_ him. I just didn’t offer an alternative.”

“Well, I think it’s nice to see you two talking anyway.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Rimmer grumbled, “And for heaven’s sake, don’t get it into your head to start inviting him round for Christmas. Just because I’m willing to acknowledge his existence that doesn’t mean I’m going to start playing Happy Families.”

“God forbid.”

              Lister rubbed at the back of his neck, where there was still a strange hot itch from the tracker. It didn’t escape Petrovitch’s notice. “Are you okay, David? Does it hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt. It just feels weird, that’s all.”

“I am sorry we didn’t tell you. It should be easy to remove.”

“It’s okay. Seeing as it came in useful after all, I can’t really complain.”

“See, I told you he’d be cool with it,” Petersen said easily, slapping Petrovitch’s shoulder.

“I mean, don’t go getting ideas. I’d prefer it if you ran it past me before injecting me with something in the future,” Lister added quickly. “But I don’t think I’ll take it out. Not yet anyway. Who knows when it might come in handy again?” He gave Rimmer a forlorn smile and he held him tighter in response.

“Don’t even joke about it. Nothing like this is ever going to happen again. You hear me? No-one is _ever_ going to hurt you again.”

“Sounds like you’re grounded, David,” Howard joked, “It’s going to be a year before he even lets you out of his sight again.”

“That’s fine by me,” Lister replied, nestling his head more comfortably into Rimmer’s lap and closing his eyes. “Believe me, that is just fine by me.”

               

 

 

Mrs Jones was waiting anxiously when they all traipsed in. She flew across the room as soon as they entered and pulled Lister into her arms. He squeezed her affectionately, “Hey. Did you miss me or something?”

“Don’t make jokes,” she pulled back and swatted his arm, “I’ve been going out of my mind back here.” When she saw the bruise on his face, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, _Dave_.”

“Don’t,” he pleaded, “I’m okay. Really.”

“You know, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry but...” she shook her head, giving in and hugging him tight again as the tears slipped down her cheeks. Lister caught Rimmer’s eye over her head and sent him a silent communication. _Don’t tell her_. He didn’t need words to know that Rimmer had received the message.

“I’ve been checking the news on my phone,” she told them, sniffling. “I saw one of them is in hospital. I tell you, if it was up to me, I’d have shot the whole bally lot of them for what they’ve done.”

“You’d have to get in line,” Rimmer told her grimly. She checked herself, with an embarrassed look at Howard,

“I’m sorry. I know he’s your brother but all the same…”

“Entirely no offence taken, I assure you,” Howard told her graciously.

“Is everyone staying here tonight?” she looked around at the group.

“Yes,” Rimmer rolled his eyes, “It looks that way.”

“I’ll start making some beds up.”

“We will help,” Petrovitch stepped forward, “We would not put you to any trouble.”

“Trouble? Goodness, dear, it’s no trouble. I’m the housekeeper.”

“No, you’re not,” Lister said softly. She looked up at him in surprise. “You’re family,” he told her seriously, “And don’t ever think otherwise.” She touched his arm, her eyes filling up again.

“Hey,” he quickly forced a smile, “No more tears. I’m home safe and sound, and everything’s okay.   The only thing l want now is to hold my boys. Where are they?”

“In the playroom,” she said, wiping her eyes, “I mean, you know…”

“I know what you mean,” Lister smiled. He was already halfway out of the room.

                He headed purposefully down the hall. When he opened the playroom door, two pairs of oh-so familiar bright shiny eyes looked up eagerly. For a second he didn’t think he was going to hold it back, thought the tears were going to overwhelm him as he thought how close he’d come to never seeing those tiny faces again. He quickly forced the horrific thought away and crushed it. He dropped to his knees, throwing his arms open wide and twisting the emotion in his voice into excitement as he squealed, “Hey! How are my favourite little dudes?”

                The twins scampered to him and he clutched them close to his chest. “Daddy, we missed you!” Jim shouted in his ear. “Where did you go?” Bexley demanded.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lister said hoarsely, fighting back the shake in his voice as he held them tight, “Nowhere important. But, oh, I missed you too. You will never know how much.” _I pray to god, you’ll never know how much._ He kissed them both. Their hair was damp from bath-time and their round sturdy bodies and sweet talcum-powder smell sang of home to him in a way that nothing else, not the warmth of Mrs Jones’ arms or even the scent of his husband’s aftershave, could. He felt a gentle hand on his back as Rimmer came to stand by his side. “Come on, boys,” he prompted softly, “We’ve got guests. Come and say hello to everyone.”

                Lister forced himself to release his sons and stand up. Rimmer immediately put an arm around his waist and Lister reciprocated as they wandered back to the sitting room, the boys thundering down the hall ahead of them. “Good God!” Lister heard Petersen bellow, “You can’t possibly be Jim and Bexley!”

“Yes, we are!” the high-pitched chorus came back.

“Nonsense. You are far too big and grown-up! No-one can grow so much in such a short time.” By the time Lister and Rimmer made it to the doorway, Petersen already had a shrieking child under each arm. Howard was looking on in detached bemusement.

“Boys,” Lister distracted them gently, “This is your Uncle Howard.” Petersen set the twins down and they ran and grabbed hold of Howard’s legs. “Hello, Uncle Howard!”

“Um. Well, hello there.” He patted their heads awkwardly. “Aren’t you friendly?”

“They take after David,” Rimmer remarked dryly.

“Yes,” Howard retorted, “I can see that.”

“Uncle Howard is a movie star,” Lister teased. Rimmer nudged him warningly.

“Wow,” the twins looked up at their new family member with rekindled interest.

“Grown-up movies,” Rimmer stressed, “That you can’t watch until you’re eighteen.”

“Or twenty-one, in some cases,” Howard added proudly.

                Petersen looked over at Lister and shook his head in disbelief, “You seriously chose to be part of this crazy family, David?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Lister leaned against Rimmer’s side with a dreamy smile.

“I could stand to have it a little different,” Rimmer grouched. Lister kissed his cheek.

“Shush. You have quirks of your own.”

“He ain’t lying,” Petersen added with a knowing grin.

Rimmer bristled but Lister found himself beaming uncontrollably. He couldn’t help it. Outside the huge windows that surrounded them was an incredible view and a spectacularly gorgeous sunset that he’d thought he might never live to see. His husband’s arms were around him, his children playing happily. He was surrounded by family and friends, who knew he enjoyed having wildly kinky sex with the man standing next to him, and didn’t give a damn. He had everything, right now. A beautiful home, people he loved to fill it and, best of all, he had the rest of his life stretching away before him to enjoy those things.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

                After everyone had gone to bed, Lister stood in the doorway of the twins’ room, watching them sleep. The euphoria of survival was beginning to pass now; and the ugly reality of everything that had happened to him was preying on his mind. Rimmer’s hands, strong and powerful, rested comfortingly on his shoulders. “You can’t stand here all night,” he said gently.

“Yeah, I can.”

“Come on. Come away now. They’ll still be here when you wake up. Promise.”

“I don’t think I’m going to sleep tonight.”

“That’s fine. I’ll stay up with you. But come and sit down.” He took Lister’s hand and quietly closed the kids’ bedroom door.

                They sat down together on the sofa. Rimmer looked awkward. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Which part?” Lister asked, depressed.

“Any part.”

“No,” Lister said honestly, “And even if I did, I don’t think you’d want to hear it.”

“I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

“I know you are. But I also know you’re not the right person for me to be sharing some of this with.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too close to it, man. It’ll just make you angry and upset.” Lister looked out of the window at the lights below them, his face stoic. “We don’t both need to carry this with us.”

“I’ll help you carry it however I can.”

“My gran used to say that a problem shared is a problem halved. But that’s not always true. Sometimes you can’t shoulder someone else’s pain for them. All you end up doing is adding to your own.” He looked back to Rimmer’s concerned face. “I’ll talk to someone. Have counselling. Whatever. And I know you’ll be there for me when I do; but as my husband – not my therapist.”

                Rimmer ran a hand back through his hair. “Tell me what to do, Dave. Just tell me what I can do to make this better.”

“Love me,” Lister told him simply, pulling Rimmer’s hand from its nesting place in his curls and holding onto it. “And forgive me.”

“Forgive you for what?”

“I feel so stupid.” Lister told him, his voice quivering with guilt and unhappiness.

“What do you mean? Why?”

“All through this whole nightmare,” Lister confided, “I kept thinking what an idiot I’ve been. I made it so easy for them, didn’t I? I walked straight into it. All of this happened because of my own smegging pig-headedness and I’m just so angry and ashamed with myself.”

“Dave, no.”

“It’s true. I brought this on myself. I’ve been in denial, pretending that I’m still the person I was before we met. I thought if I went on living my life the way I was used to, I could pretend I haven’t changed. You tried so hard to warn me, to make me understand that it couldn’t work that way. I should have listened to you. You were right all along.”

“No,” Rimmer said to him firmly, “No, I wasn’t. You shouldn’t have gone out alone, granted, but it’s my fault you did it. I’ve been holding onto you too tightly. If I’d given you more freedom, a little more breathing space, then you wouldn’t have felt the need to make it into a battle. I pushed you into taking a stand.”

“You just wanted to protect me. But…I really didn’t believe that something like this could happen. Not to me. Not in real life. From the moment they grabbed me, right up to giving my statement to the police, I kept thinking ‘this can’t be happening’. Like it was all a bad dream. And now I’ve woken up to find it was all real. I put myself and everyone else through the most horrendous nightmare, because I’m stubborn and stupid and headstrong and…and…”

“…And fearless,” Rimmer said gently. “You knew the risks - even if you never took them very seriously - but you didn’t let them dictate your actions.        You never let it control you. I’ve never been able to do that. I’ve spent so long living in terror of something happening to you. I let it consume me, let it affect everything. Partly because I always knew that your shadow - your damned infuriating, insuppressible, uncontrollable, dauntless, wonderful shadow – would slip out of my grasp sooner or later.” Lister managed a faint smile.

Rimmer kissed him gently between the eyes. “I can’t keep that shadow locked up. And neither can you. So we’ll find a way to compromise. We’ll find ways to let him off the leash now and then. Agreed?”

“Are you kidding me?” Lister joked meekly, “After all this? I’m never leaving this smegging tower again.”

“Yes, you are.” Rimmer took his shoulders and looked at him seriously. “Because you’re not going to let this break you. You are the bravest person I know. You’ve crossed dimensions. You’ve jumped right into the heart of the unknown, stretched the limits of human understanding. And, bravest of all, you married me. With all of my issues and needs and complications. You never ran from anything I threw at you. You kept coming back for more, even when everything about who I am terrified you. You are not, I repeat NOT, going to be beaten down by this. That’s not the David Lister I married.”

“I was so scared, Arn. I can’t even tell you how scared. This whole thing…it was worse than lying in the dark listening to the countdown for Wildfire. At least then I knew it was my decision. I knew, whatever happened, we were together. This is so different and I honestly don’t know how I’m ever going to get past it.”

“You will, baby,” Rimmer told him earnestly, “It will take time but you will.” He stroked his hair, “You’re going to fly again, little bird. Even if you need some time to heal your wings first. And maybe it’s time I learnt to flap along beside you.”

               Lister sank into his arms and Rimmer held him close, treasuring the feel of the warm body breathing softly in his arms. Lister gave in to the comfort of the embrace. His shadow wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, and nor was he. Right now he couldn’t think about it, couldn’t even bring himself to care. Everything that mattered to him was right here in this apartment. The rest of creation could burn as far as he was concerned.

He slid his arms up around Rimmer’s neck and clung to him tightly. “Make love to me,” he whispered softly into the curls against his face.

Rimmer frowned, drawing back, “You really want to?”

“I don’t want to. I need to. I need _you_.”

“But...after what happened…?”

“What happened -” Lister said quietly and clearly, “-happened. But it has no bearing on you and me. It’s something else altogether and it doesn’t change a damn thing between us. I won’t let it. You hear me?”

“But all the same...”

“But nothing.”

“Would it help if…? if I…?” Rimmer trailed off, uncharacteristically shy suddenly.

“What?” Lister asked, confused.

“If I let you…you know.”

“Oh,” Lister’s eyes widened as he finally grasped what he was trying to say. “Oh, Arn. You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, because I’ve been waiting years for you to make me that offer but…”

“What?”

“But I don’t think that’s actually what I need right now.   What I need, more than anything, is for you to be Arnold Rimmer. Does that makes sense?” He gazed up into Rimmer’s face, his fingers lost in his silky curls. “I need you to be the confident, in-control, force of nature that I married. Because that guy, even when he’s doing the most insane crazy crap to me, makes me feel safe. And I need to feel safe right now.”

“You are,” Rimmer told him gently. “That’s a promise. You will always be safe with me.”

“It’s weird,” Lister told him, “but…I feel like someone took me away from you, and now I need you to claim me back. I need to feel like I’m completely yours again. Do you understand?”

“I think so. But we can wait. We can wait as long as...”

“I almost died today,” Lister interrupted firmly, “I don’t _want_ to wait. I don’t want to waste a single moment. I want to _live_.”

“Okay.” Rimmer finally acquiesced. He kissed Lister’s forehead reverently, “Then let’s live a little.”

He took his hand, tugged him up off the sofa, and led him down the hall. But not all the way. He stopped outside their bedroom. Lister looked up at him in mild shock, glancing towards the locked door at the end of the hall. “No,” Rimmer said flatly, before he could even ask. “We’re not going in there.” Instead, he opened the bedroom door and led Lister inside. He closed the door firmly behind them and drew him into his arms with a kiss.

                He undressed him slowly in the dim light; the hands that contained such amazing strength and power as gentle as cat’s paws on his skin. “If you want me to stop,” he whispered between tender kisses, “ _any_ time, just say.”

Lister clung needily to those broad shoulders as Rimmer sank to his knees before him, kissing his way down his chest. “Don’t stop,” he whispered back firmly. He found his mind going back to another night many years ago. The first night he’d ever spent in this apartment, when he’d been elated and terrified and enthralled and aroused, all in equal measure. It was the first time they’d been together, the first time Lister had been with any man, and it had happened in this room and not the playroom, because Rimmer hadn’t wanted Lister’s first time to be like that.   He’d wanted him to feel safe. He’d wanted it to be special. It had been.

Now, for only the third time in their entire relationship, they lay down naked together on the white silk sheets of what was now their marital bed. Rimmer climbed on top of him, those hard muscular arms holding his weight up so he didn’t pin or crush him, and kissed him on the mouth, long and deep and gentle. When their lips finally drew apart, Lister looked up into the fifty shades of Rimmer’s hazel eyes; and saw something in them that made his own eyes glow with sudden awed and joyful understanding. Suddenly he knew why they were in here. And it wasn’t just to make him feel safe.

“We’re having another baby,” he whispered, “Aren’t we.” It wasn’t even a question.

“You’re damn right we’re having another baby,” Rimmer replied, his voice deep with feeling. He covered Lister’s body with his own.

 

And the ritual began.

 


	20. Epilogue

Many, many, years later…..

 

Lister lay in bed, soft pillows keeping him propped up to ease his breathing. The position was more comfortable, but it also meant he could still look out at the panorama of Jupiter. He could see it all; the city, the sky, the stars. It had been seventy-three years since he’d first set foot in this room, but he’d never got tired of looking at that view.

Tubes snaked across the warm bedcovers into various apparatus by his side – oxygen, fluids, morphine. He wasn’t in pain now, and that was good, but he could still hear the awful rattling when he breathed. It was exhausting.

“Dad,” a soft warm hand closed gently over his stiff fingers and he looked up into a pair of sparkling hazel eyes. His daughter was leaning over him. He could see strands of silver in her dark hair. The tumbling curls she’d been blessed with could have come from him or his husband, but those eyes were all Arnold. “Can I get you anything?” she asked softly. He smiled weakly and shook his head. “No, sweetie,” he breathed faintly, “I’ve got all I need.”

“We’re right here with you, Dad,” another deeper voice to his left added.

“We’ll stay as long as you want,” an identical voice joined in.

                Lister considered for a moment. Comforting as it was to have his three children by his side, he didn’t think he wanted them to see this. When the time came, and he knew it was imminent now, there was only one person he wanted with him. “That’s okay,” he whispered, “Don’t stay. Go out to the kids. They need you now more than I do.” He’d already said his goodbyes to his grandchildren, and great-grandchildren too, although the very tiny ones didn’t really understand. No matter. The circle of life went on. It always did. “Are you sure?” Genevieve asked, her voice wavering just a little. Rimmer had chosen her name (it had been his turn) and Lister had always considered it a touch pretentious. To him she’d always been Viva, and he thought the abbreviation very apt. It suited her sunny nature far better. “I’m sure, babe,” he sighed, “But give me a kiss before you go.”

“Okay.” One by one, they leaned over and pecked his cheek. “Goodbye, Dad.”

“So long, darlings. I love you,” he whispered to them, “so, so much. And I am so proud of you all.”

“We love you too, Dad.”

“Always.”

When the bedroom door closed softly behind them, he heard a stifled sniffle from the corner. “Hey,” Lister whispered, “No tears. We always knew this day would come eventually.”

“I know,” Rimmer whispered back throatily, emerging from the shadows with wet eyes to sit on the side of the bed, “But I always knew I’d never be ready for it.”

With the little strength he still had, Lister squeezed his hand. It was like rock. The fingers might look knarled, the skin crinkled, but it was all just a show. Underneath, Rimmer’s hologrammatic form was as strong and powerful as it had been the day they met. “I’ve had one hell of a good run,” Lister told him, “We both know that. We have so much to be grateful for.” He found himself thinking, as he had many times over the years, of that other David Lister. Had he lived to be ninety-three? Was he still out there somewhere? Had he and that other Arnold Rimmer ever become anything more, or had they lived out their lives together on that abandoned ship all alone? He hoped not.

“I _am_ grateful,” Rimmer said mournfully, “I’m grateful for every second I’ve ever spent with you. But I still want more.”

“So do I. But not like this. It’s time, Arn. You have to let me go.” Rimmer gave a choked sob, but nodded. Lister lovingly stroked his fingers. “I can never thank you enough,” he whispered, “for the incredible life you’ve given me.”

“And I can never thank you enough,” Rimmer leaned over and kissed him, “for giving me a life worth living.”

Lister sighed deeply. He was tired and, even with the breathing utility and the morphine, his chest was beginning to ache once more. “Turn the machine off now,” he whispered, “And come and lie beside me. I’m ready to sleep.”

Tears trickling silently down his face, Rimmer went to the life support machine at the side of the bed that was assisting Lister’s breathing and downloading his final memories. He shut it down and immediately heard the rasping in his husband’s lungs increase. He climbed onto the bed beside him and took him in his arms. Lister rested his head against the firm silent chest, with its conspicuously absent heartbeat. “I’ll see you soon,” he murmured. Rimmer stroked his back.

“Laters, baby,” he whispered tearfully. Lister closed his eyes, smiling. He didn’t open them again.

Dave Lister, who’d started life in a cardboard box in a backstreet pub, ended it in the most luxurious surroundings imaginable, and in the arms of the man he loved.

 

 

 

“Mister Lister? Mister Lister, can you hear me?” A spectacled face hovered blurrily into view. Lister stared at it. Who was this? Where was he? He sat up cautiously and was surprised at how easy it was. It didn’t hurt. Nothing creaked, nothing cracked. He glanced down at his hands and stopped. He stared. He turned them over and over, then flexed his fingers experimentally. No pain. No arthritis. No wrinkles. “Sir?” the voice again, “How are you feeling?” Finally, he looked up and around himself. He was on a bed in a sparkling laboratory, dressed in a hospital gown. A man in a white coat was speaking to him.

“Where am I?” he asked, and his voice didn’t sound like his own. It was too high, too smooth. It didn’t hurt to talk anymore, his throat and lungs no longer aching with the effort.

“You’re in the regeneration suite,” the man told him gently, “Do you know what that means? Do you remember?”

                Lister hesitated. Did he? He closed his eyes and tried to think. The last thing he remembered was Rimmer kissing his forehead, and then his own voice, weak and exhausted. _I’m ready to sleep._ His breath caught and he opened his eyes. The man in the lab coat was watching him patiently. “Yes,” he said, “It means I’m dead.”

“I’m afraid so. You passed away just over a week ago. I’m told it was very peaceful and that you went in your sleep with your husband by your side.”

“So I’m…I’m…”

“You’re a hologram. Welcome back, Sir.”

                Lister pressed a hand to his chest. It was still and silent. His hand shook. After a lifetime of living with Rimmer’s lack of pulse, he should have been used to it, but somehow it was different when it was your own. “It will take a little while to adjust,” the man told him quickly, obviously seeing his alarm, “But how are you feeling overall?” Lister considered the question. He felt good actually. For the first time in years nothing ached. He could breathe easily and fully. He looked down again at his smooth agile hands. How old was this body? “I feel fine,” he said. “Can I have a mirror?”

“Not just yet. We find it’s usually better to acclimatise a subject to their new body before letting them see themselves.” Curiously, Lister raised his hands to his face and felt firm plump cheeks.

“Let’s do some tests, shall we?” The lab technician, obviously keen to distract him, went over to a bench lined with objects and picked up a red ball. “We’ll try some hand-eye co-ordination first.” He tossed the ball to Lister who caught it one-handed and tossed it back. The ball ricocheted off the far wall and bounced crazily around the room, making them both duck. “You’ll find that you’re a lot stronger now,” the technician remarked, retrieving it from where it had finally rolled to a stop. “It will take a little while to get used to. Just be a bit careful in the meantime when shaking hands with people and that kind of thing.”

“Roger that,” Lister agreed, wide-eyed.

“We’ll do some practicing with general household objects so you can get an idea of what level of grip is suitable. You’ll pick it up quite quickly.”

“When can I see my family?”

The lab technician gave an understanding smile, “When it’s safe,” he told him.

                Lister spent the day doing exercises, to test his projection and get him accustomed to his new form. He kept waiting to feel tired, for the familiar weariness and breathlessness to set in, but it never did. He was, quite literally, indefatigable. He spent an hour or so with the psychologist, who gave him the standard ‘You are not David Lister. You are a computer simulation of the human being who was David Lister. You have access to his memories but they are not your memories. You are programmed to think and behave the way your software predicts David Lister would’ spiel. He was more than familiar with the finer points of this technology and, as far as he was concerned, so long as he still felt like David Lister he didn’t care.

                At the end of the day, when he could demonstrate to the technicians that he could use a china cup and saucer without breaking it, they agreed he was ready to be released back to his family. “You can go behind the curtain to get dressed now,” the man who’d greeted him when he awoke told him. “Your husband left some clothes for you specially.”

“Oh, okay,” Lister slipped into the dressing area and opened the small locker within. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He had never cared much about clothes. When he drew out the items that were waiting for him, he didn’t breathe for a long moment.

He hadn’t seen these things for a very long time, hadn’t even been certain he still had them, but Rimmer had obviously kept them somewhere safe all this time, waiting for this day. In his hands, he held a very old black leather jacket and a matching pair of trousers. Both tattered and well-worn, but still wearable. When he put them on, they fitted to his body like a second skin. Once fully dressed, he stepped out from behind the curtain. “Can I see a mirror now please?” he asked quietly. The technician opened up a cupboard on the other side of the room, a full length mirror inside the door. Lister walked up to it and stared. Looking back at him, was a boy he’d not seen for years.

“Pleased?” the technician asked him gently.

“How old am I now?” Lister whispered, but he already knew the answer.

“This is the earliest version we have on record of your physical form,” the man told him, “I believe it was taken when you were twenty years old.”

 

                When he stepped out of the lab into the waiting room, three familiar faces looked up at him. “Hi kids,” he smiled gingerly.

“Oh! Oh, _daddy!_ ” Genevieve stood up and hurried to him. He hugged her very carefully. “Look at you!” she exclaimed, drawing back and staring at him with wonder.

“I know. Good stuff this technology, right?” he grinned.

“Dad,” he was caught in a two-way hug from his twin sons, “It’s so good to see you again.”

“But weird,” Bexley added with a laugh.

“So, so weird,” Jim confirmed, “How old are you supposed to be?”

“And what are you _wearing?_ ”

“Hey,” Lister smiled impishly, “I always told you I was a rebellious youth.”

His smile faded a little as he saw the mixture of joy and grief in their faces. “Did the funeral go off okay?” he asked gently. Viva nodded, wiping away a tear.

“It was a wonderful service,” she told him, “Papa did such a good job of the eulogy. And the kids sang beautifully. We’ll show you the video sometime, but it will make you cry.”

“Not today then. There’s been enough tears for now. And speaking of your Papa, where is he exactly?”

                His children shared strange secretive smiles. “He’s waiting for you upstairs,” Jim said softly.

“In the apartment?”

“On the roof. By the jet.”

“He’s taking you away somewhere special for the week to welcome you back.”

“Somewhere special?”

“Your old holiday place on Europa. You know, the one you jerks never let us use for some reason.”

“Grown-ups need their own space,” Lister said automatically.

“We’re nearly seventy years old. We’ve been grown-ups for some time now, Dad, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You lot have a perfectly nice villa over on Miranda. Don’t be greedy. Your papa and I are entitled to have a little place just for us.”

“He said you haven’t been there for over thirty years. We could have kept the place warm for you.”

“I’m sure once we get settled back in, the place will soon be plenty warm again,” Lister said, his eyes sparkling with joy and anticipation.

               

                He kissed his children, who were now old enough to be his grandparents, and stepped into the lift. He was vaguely aware that, had he still been human, his heart would be racing now. He could still feel the excitement, but it felt different. It was more like a quietly humming ebb of power, as if his whole body was now a live wire.

                When he emerged out onto the roof of the Rimmer Building, the wind whipped his face but he didn’t stagger. He remembered all the times in his life that he’d felt the power of that wind before, and the feel of Rimmer’s arms steadying and sheltering him from it. Finally, he didn’t need to be sheltered anymore.

                His eyes scanned the rooftop. The RimmerJet gleamed in the moonlight, but it was empty. At the very edge of the roof, looking over the glimmering spectacle of the city, was a tall lean figure in a sleek suit. Arnold Rimmer turned around, the lights below making a halo of his curls. All at once, Lister was no longer on the roof. He was walking into a bright glass office that floated above the streets of Saturn. He was holding tightly onto a dictaphone that he didn’t know how to use, and a sheet full of questions that he hadn’t written, and he was gazing into a pair of hazel eyes that seemed to pierce right through him and into his soul; fifty beautiful shades he would come to know by heart. He was twenty years old, dressed in his favourite black leathers, and he was meeting the man who would become his husband for the very first time. The face that looked back at him now from across the roof of the Rimmer Building was just as it had been on that day, the memory coming to life before him in diamond clarity.

                He walked over slowly, drinking in the vision before him. Rimmer’s eyes never left his. They didn’t speak at first. Rimmer stepped forward and took Lister’s face in his hands, staring into his eyes as if he were searching for something. “It’s me,” Lister reassured him in a whisper, “Baby, it’s still me.”

“I know,” Rimmer whispered back, “But I’d almost forgotten how beautiful you were. How beautiful you _are_.” Lister found he was laughing softly under his breath.

“And this is how you brought me back. Barely legal and in black leather. I should have known. You always loved this outfit, didn’t you?”

“I knew as soon as you walked into my office that day that I wanted to get you out of it, I know that.”

“Well, you certainly succeeded.”

“From the first moment I laid eyes on you, there was only one thing I wanted. I knew I had to have you, and every second between then and the first night I brought you here, I was just waiting to make you mine. And all this time, the last seventy-three years, I’ve been waiting to do this.”

Rimmer swept him into his arms and kissed him fiercely.

At first Lister didn’t understand what he meant. Then he felt the hands grasping him so tightly, the utter release of passion in their kiss, and he understood. For the first time ever, Rimmer could truly let go and hold nothing back. For the first time ever, his husband did not have to be afraid of hurting him.

Lister’s head spun as the endless possibilities became evident. What could they do together now they were on an even footing? Think of how it would be, now that he finally had a form strong and resilient enough to withstand his husband’s wildest desires. And after a thirty year dry spell, he’d had plenty of time to get creative. Forget what he’d said to the kids about getting their retreat on Europa warm again. By the end of this week, it was going to be a miracle if the place was still standing. “Oh, man,” Lister gasped, “This is going to be intense.”

“This,” Rimmer promised breathlessly, “is going to be like nothing you ever experienced in your life.”

                They ran hand-in-hand to the jet, and as they shot up into the broad expanse of infinity, Rimmer threw them in a corkscrew loop. Lister squealed and laughed delightedly, “You lunatic! What’s got into you?”

“Relax,” Rimmer told him, with a grin wider than Lister had ever seen. “What’s the worst that can happen? After all, we’re already dead.” He dropped them into anther spin and Lister whooped as if he was riding a rollercoaster and heard Rimmer laugh beside him.

                As they sped towards Europa, Lister caught a twinkle of blue out of the corner of his eye; sunlight reflecting off the Earth. He thought for a moment of a boy called David Lister who’d been born on that planet, who’d been abandoned at six weeks old; who’d walked to school through dirty streets in hand-me-downs and shoes with holes in; who’d suffered loss after loss until he had nothing to keep him on that planet anymore. He’d gone in search of a better life and found more than he could have ever dreamed of. He’d known pain and joy, fame and fortune, fear and sadness. He’d changed the universe forever and met someone who would change _him_ forever. He’d lived an amazing life and died a good death. Maybe he wasn’t the human being known as David Lister,but wherever that guy was now, Lister hoped he was happy and at peace.

                Maybe there was no such thing as a life without limits. But an afterlife without limits? Well, that was another possibility entirely….


	21. Appendices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who wanted to know what happened next...

Petersen

Olaf’s career continued to go well over the years. His restaurant maintained its success and he ended up opening an equally successful chain. He went through three highly eventful marriages and had several children whom he loved but found it hard to keep track of. He managed to (mostly) stay sober. He remained close to Lister and Petrovitch but never liked Rimmer. At the age of seventy he relinquished management of his restaurants to a protégé and retired to a more sedate life back in Denmark with his fourth wife. At the time of Lister’s death they had not seen each other for several years but still remained in close contact. He died in his sleep age 102

  
Petrovitch

Petrovitch remained working for Rimmer Inc. Around eighteen months after Lister’s kidnapping, a new colleague joined his research team. She was a brilliant scientist and could speak several different languages – including Russian. They got married a year later and had two daughters whom he doted upon. His daughters became unofficial cousins to the Rimmer-Lister children and they all remained close as they grew up. They were bridesmaids at Genevieve’s wedding. Petrovitch died at age eighty-five but chose to be brought back as a hologram so that he could continue his work and research alongside his wife.

  
Howard Rimmer

Howard continued to work as a porn star for another ten years, after which he decided to continue his efforts behind camera and became a director instead. After John’s arrest, Frank kept his distance and more or less disowned the whole family. They never found out if he had a terrible secret too. As a result, when Mrs Rimmer finally passed on, Howard inherited her entire estate. He maintained contact with Lister and Rimmer and although he and Arnold never really became close, they did develop a curmudgeonly tolerance for one another. He would turn up at the hub now and then with outrageous stories to tell and presents for the children. Sometimes he stayed for dinner. He liked to tease that it was a shame Rimmer had met Lister first because he ‘could have made that kid a star’. Whenever he said this, Rimmer threw things at him. Lister developed an odd sort of affection for Howard over the years and, on one occasion, he even secretly agreed to let him film one of his movies at their ‘holiday home’ on Europa. He kept this nugget of info secret from Rimmer until the day he died (however he confessed it later on with very interesting results). Howard never married – ‘too much choice’ – and seemed content with that. He died of a heart attack aged eighty-eight while having a threesome. All who knew him agreed it was how he would have wanted to go.

  
Taylor

Taylor continued to work as Lister and Rimmer’s bodyguard until he turned fifty, then reduced his duties to chauffeuring only until retirement, when he made the decision to move to Earth to be near his grandchildren. As a retirement gift, they bought him a lakeside retreat in the US where he could go to relax. Every year until his death he sent them a Christmas card of he and his wife standing out on the deck. She was the only other person he ever told the truth to about what really happened in the alleyway.

  
Mrs Jones

Henrietta Jones stayed on as the family housekeeper/governess/surrogate mother/grandmother until she was diagnosed with terminal cancer at age sixty-eight. When offered the option of being resurrected as a hologram, she firmly declined, saying she had ‘better things to do in the afterlife than spend eternity hoovering this apartment’. Lister and Rimmer were saddened, but not surprised. They both knew that in her heart she was hoping to be reunited with her lost husband and son. As her illness progressed, they moved her into the hub and she was cared for by the best doctors money could buy. Lister, Rimmer, Jim, Bexley and Genevieve were all with her when she died. They built a fountain in the central plaza outside the Rimmer Building in her memory and donated all the money thrown into it to charity each year. The first Christmas without her was the worst. Lister tried to make Christmas dinner the way she used to, but it wasn’t the same. Viva found him crying quietly in the kitchen over a tray of burnt stuffing and hugged him. After that, they made it a new tradition that he and his daughter always made the Christmas dinner together.

 

Kochanski

Kristine Kochanski enjoyed a long and rewarding career in the space corps. She did not see Lister very often due to the nature of her work but they kept in contact over the years. She married a nice man and they had a son and a daughter. At the party for Lister and Rimmer’s 21st wedding anniversary, they noticed Bexley chatting up her daughter and joked nervously about history repeating itself, but nothing ever came of it. At the time of Lister’s death she was living in a pleasant nursing home back on Saturn. She still had all her marbles but was frail and prone to falls. She shed a tear at the news of his death – and a few more when she awoke from a nap a few weeks later to see him sitting at the end of the bed, looking as if he’d just stepped out of a memory. He held her hand and told her that if this was what she wanted for herself when the time came then he’d make it happen. She shook her head. “I’ve lived my life,” she told him, “And it was good. I’ve done everything I wanted to do and I have no unfinished business. My husband’s gone and my kids are grown. I’ve got no use for immortality.”  
“Really?” Lister teased gently, “You’re all done here? No regrets?” She reached up and touched his smooth warm cheek with one trembling crooked hand and smiled sadly.  
“Just one.”

  
The children

All three of the Rimmer-Lister children grew up happy and healthy. Of the two boys, Bexley had to be pushed a little more to achieve (he’d inherited the apathy that had undermined Lister’s early education) but loved animals and made this his focus. Rimmer managed to keep the ‘no pets’ rule in force until the twins 10th birthday, when he came in from the office to find a small, apparently turbo-charged black kitten tearing around their sitting room. “What was I supposed to do?” Lister asked angelically, “She followed me home. I couldn’t very well chuck her out once the kids had seen her, could I?”  
“We live on the 200th floor of a skyscraper. It did not follow you home.”  
Bexley eventually qualified as a veterinarian, specialising in endangered species. He wrote several books and became a high-profile authority on the subject.

  
Jim was driven from a young age and was always keen to join the space corps. After graduating from the academy with honours, he expressed his intention to become a test pilot. This did not go down well with his parents. Lister begged him to reconsider, Rimmer ordered him to. Neither approach worked. After months of debate (and several fiercely intense arguments between Rimmer and Jim) both his fathers had eventually conceded that he had to follow his heart and supported his career choice, although it terrified them. He enjoyed a phenomenal and unusually long career for a test pilot, earned several medals and commendations for his bravery and achievements, and retired at age 55 as Commander James Rimmer-Lister, having clocked up over one hundred successful missions. His friends and colleagues called him Ace. Rimmer didn’t mind.

  
Genevieve was the only child who showed any interest in the family business. She attended a prestigious university back on Earth and gained a Master’s degree in Combined Sciences and Business Studies before taking up a post in Research & Development under her father at Rimmer Inc. She proved to be an extremely intuitive and capable businesswoman, and on her 30th birthday Rimmer officially made her his second-in-command; amending the company protocols so that in the event of anything happening to his projection, she would assume control of the company rather than Lister. Lister considered this a huge relief. Over the following years, Rimmer gradually released more and more responsibility for the running of the company to her; and after Lister’s death Rimmer finally decided it was time to retire for good and formally relinquished control of the business, appointing her as the new company CEO. She did a damn fine job.

  
Lister & Rimmer

Dave and Arnold made the most of their afterlife together. When they felt that their family no longer needed them, and that they’d seen everything their universe had to offer, they decided to spread their wings a little further. Wildfire was sitting in a museum, where she had stayed untouched for decades. They decided that was a crying shame. Rimmer bought her back, Lister lovingly refurbished her. And when she was good as new once again, Ace Snr and Spanners decided to see what adventures the multiverse might hold.


End file.
